


Avian Duet

by captainbane, ObsidianEagle



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Winged Alec Lightwood, Winged Magnus Bane, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-12 19:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainbane/pseuds/captainbane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianEagle/pseuds/ObsidianEagle
Summary: Magnus Bane, a Guardian sent by God, lost his ability to fly along with his desire to love. Day by day, his wings decay, losing their once royal colour to nothing at all. With a wounded, bruised and lost heart, his wings will never heal, and his days of being amongst the clouds are over.It's only a matter of time until vultures catch up to him, mundanes who have gone mad with greed, hatred and ill intentions; their wings stained black and names forgotten.But perhaps, there's a chance to learn what love is again when he meets someone who is lost in a different way.





	1. Decay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so nicole and i have been working on this fic for a couple of weeks now and we're so excited to finally share this first chapter with you.  
> we sincerely hope you enjoy reading it as much as we loved writing it! :') 
> 
> apparently live tweeting is a thing now so if you wanna do that, we'll be eagerly following reactions with the tag #ADuetFic!
> 
> and without further ado, happy reading!

 

_“It’s frightening to feel helpless, that nothing you do will help whatever fear that’s causing your nightmares._

_Feeling the decay, to watch as it takes away everything, it can make words like hope and future seem unattainable._

_And what’s even more terrifying than that? Watching it happen to someone else.”_

 

* * *

Birds are beautiful, but they’re also strange. The way they move their heads, quickly snapping from one direction to another, every second to them more important than the last, a longing battle for survival.

They see the world differently, they see it far above from where mundanes stand, the wind carrying their wingspan far and wide, migrating to the most beautiful places the world has to offer them.

Mundanes dare to see such height when adrenaline rushes through their veins, when a holiday is on the horizon, when they push themselves to reach the highest height.

Wings carry them through everyday life, to lift themselves up when skies turn grey; but they aren’t always in control, because sometimes the wind is too strong for them, and hence, they’ll be carried to wherever the current takes them.

Trust.

A trust in fate, a fate Magnus lost faith in long ago.

His wings were once glorious, a sense of pride that he carried with him everywhere he travelled, the sun’s light making the gold of his feathers shine. They were his token, a symbol to show how pure and full of love his heart is, how much he wants to give back to the world.

Now, though, the sun doesn’t catch his feathers, nor do they move with the same grace he once had.

For years now, his feathers have fallen, decaying from gold to brown, losing their colour at the roots where they bleed grey. Every day, more feathers shed themselves as the damage runs deep, coursing through him to where he bleeds internally.

Magnus’ heart, his light that flickers closer to darkness each day-- it’s burning out.

Lost in the storm, carried by countless winds who promised love, who promised a lifetime, who promised a light in the darkest of days; they _lied._

Or they left him to drift, hoping he’ll find solid ground. Either way, they always leave.

They always leave his wings to carry him, repeatedly thrown to the ground below without words of hope he survives. Fate has always been the one to snap his wings and laugh, to force them to grow back and watch him suffer all over again. Even now, his world is turning grey, heart failing to see a way out, to hope for something that’ll pick him up from the ground again.

To hope for love, a second beginning; it seems incredibly foolish.

His wings have given up, no longer able to carry themselves as they drag across the floor, the dull brown of their colour a harsh contrast to the bright and royal gold they were before. Not even the sun can bring them health, the spring in his step that lifts him up, to try again.

Magnus can no longer fly, grounded in his apartment near the crashes of ocean waves, the sweet songs of birds that pity him. The heartbreak of countless lovers made his wings this way, cutting his heart deep, bruising but still holding onto the light Magnus still wants to shine on the world.

But because his heart remains pure, he suffers the pain of every heartbreak he’s ever felt dragging behind him, clinging onto him like talons of the vultures themselves.

Each day, he wonders if his life would’ve been different if he closed himself off to love, to not let people twist him into believing such an emotion is real. All that love has brought him is pain, agony, colours that he once loved draining from the world.

Gold, his most favourite of all, the colour of his retired wings, seems far from reality now.

But if he didn’t fall in love, to close himself off from feeling it, surely he would’ve gone mad. He’d have turned into a _vulture_ by now, the people who _do_ turn mad from greed, lust and pain.

His wings would’ve turned black, rotten away, thirsty for blood to the point where he’d forget his own name. Thankfully, Magnus hasn’t seen one since a few weeks ago, his apartment out of reach for the flightless. But as much as they are insane, they’re smart, desperate to rip the wings from those still with the gift of flight, giving them some sort of sick satisfaction.

Knowing they’re somewhere below, waiting for him to trip and fall, knowing _himself_ that he can’t get back up, it’s a frightening thought. He can’t sleep because of it, can’t imagine a situation where he’ll spread his wings and escape as they close in on the only winged creature remaining around here.

Although, that’s not so true, not anymore.

He’s not technically alone, even though Magnus’ heart refuses to accept his existence. He kissed him a few days after they met, testing the waters, wanting to know if he’d stay or go, to get it over with quick so Magnus doesn’t let himself go through another heartbreak.

They’re relationship is strange, unsure when to push and pull, and Magnus hurts yet yearns to keep him around. He’s stubborn, Magnus will give him that; always wanting to stay as close as possible, as much as Magnus will let him. He won’t push boundaries, he respects that.

And right now, there’s that familiar sound, the shift of sheets, the little shuffle of feet into slippers. It’s usually followed by mumbled _good mornings_ and the sound of soft kisses over his cheek and neck.

He’s found a way out, a way out of the storm and into another one.

But this storm doesn’t leave him grounded, doesn’t leave him gasping for air because the pain has winded him.

No, this storm is different.

This storm is soft black hair, tender, sacred smiles and gorgeous eyes that Magnus finds himself lost in. He finds a new shard of colour in them every day, his thumbs resting just under his eyes as Magnus tries to understand _why_ he stays. He’s tall, well built like Magnus, but his hands are nothing but gentle, soothing his sore muscles--

Alec, his _Alexander._

A lighthouse in the storm, the man who brought him hope, a hope where maybe one day he won’t be afraid to stay on the ground where vultures can pull him from his feet.

And there he is, emerging from the bedroom, rubbing his palms against his eyes to wish the sleep away. Strong, bronze wings fold tight against his back, the gradient towards the bottom of those feathers becoming an innocent white, small hints of blue hidden in the shadows.

The bird that sits on Magnus’ finger twitches its little head towards him, chirping once before flying out of the kitchen window. It’s only then that Magnus looks to him, not offering a smile, and Alec is used to not receiving one in reply anymore.

Magnus does open his arms, though, welcoming Alec into a hug Magnus sinks into.

Their hugs are so warm, so grounding in the sense of reality. Alec’s wings will wrap around them, bringing Magnus into this safe cocoon where for one moment, he can believe his wings are healing, that Alec’s hopes for him will make Magnus fly again.

 _“Morning, Magnus,”_ Alec whispers into Magnus’ neck, hands to his waist, searching slowly up to the bruised shoulder blades that struggle to carry his wings. He feels the twitch beneath his fingers, the clench of Magnus’ jaw as the twinge of pain bites his nerve endings.

“Good afternoon, almost,” Magnus replies, feeling the deep chuckle rumble through Alec’s chest with his hands as they rest there, bringing them up to his cheeks as Alec lifts his head.

“Why don’t you come back to bed?” He asks, his wings still hugging Magnus closely, the cold oceanic breeze folding around them as it tries to reach Magnus.

That’s a question he doesn’t want to answer.

Why?

Because Alec can already sense his fear, sees the bags under his eyes, the heavy exhales of his breathing.

The realisation on Alec’s face makes Magnus sad, to see such a beautiful smile fade to one of great concern. He tilts Magnus’ face up, eyes shifting with worry across his features, “You’re not sleeping.”

It takes Magnus a few seconds, but he does reply, “No, I cannot.”

“Nightmares?” Alec replies, and Magnus nods.

Placing his forehead against Alec’s chest, he sincerely hopes Alec doesn’t press further as to what these nightmares entail.

What he does know, is that Magnus can’t sleep during the night, and that he can catch, at most, a few hours. Alec usually gathers food during that time or nearer to the morning, to scout the area for enemies and bring an end to them if he needs to, so he can’t accompany Magnus while he sleeps. And when Alec isn’t there, nightmares still find their way to his broken wings, leaving him barely able to stand.

They’ve been living under the same roof for two weeks, and Magnus is still wary with his heart, but the more time he spends with Alec, the more his wings feel less heavy; albeit a _very_ small amount.

Magnus is still yet to figure out why Alec stayed after he found him that fateful day.

“Don’t--,” Magnus begins, licking his lips to try and make his words easier to say, “Don’t go today.”

Alec’s bronze wings ease from their hug, and Magnus grips himself tighter to Alec as the breeze finds its way to his sore shoulders. In a way, it soothes him, but the warmth of Alec’s wings is something he misses greatly from his own.

“But we only have fruit left,”

“It’ll make do,” argues Magnus, looking up to the slightly taller man, fingers idly running through his hair, “Please, stay.”

Alec can’t take his eyes away no matter what he thinks, not when Magnus idly pulls him closer, almost _begging_ for him to remain by his side. He just spoke it, but even if he stayed silent, the way Magnus’ body stays close, almost moving into Alec like he’s the first warm fire in a blizzard--

It breaks Alec’s heart, and then some.

“Alright,” Alec replies, breathing out, even more concerned for Magnus when the news of Alec staying doesn’t bring any light to his eyes, “I’ll stay.”

They’re low on food, and the vultures move closer every day, taking more and more food from the very few places that still grow around here. Alec, though, simply can’t leave Magnus, not when he’s like this, not when his wings hang so low they cease to be anything but dead weight.

And then Magnus starts to feel guilt, thick in his lungs as he takes his next breath. Alec looks so worried, so conflicted with feelings for a man he’s known for two weeks. Magnus doesn’t know why he’s still here, why he _insists_ he stays and looks after a bird that will never survive the winter.

Compared to Alec, Magnus feels like a soul that fell from the nest, never learning how to get back up. If Alec stays here, Magnus feels as if he’s dragging Alec down, maybe to an eventual end where Alec’s wings will lose their strength, too.

Magnus parts his lips, the question cold on his tongue, hatred howling out from his _aching_ heart that just wants Alec to consume him. Maybe, just maybe, if Alec stays close, he can imagine those bronze wings are his own.

He’s lost hope, that the gold of his wings will never return.

Alec is the one person who hasn’t lost hope in Magnus, seeing behind the fog of doubt Magnus holds close, knowing there’s gold somewhere, hidden by cracks and struggling to shine through.

He’s afraid to ask for help, to stand up and say he’s going to fly again, because he isn’t. Magnus has accepted he’ll be flightless for the remainder of his life, and no matter how many times Alec argues against it, even without words-- Magnus turns cold, ignores him, _hates_ him.

Because in a way, Alec is everything he was. Alec doesn’t say anything, as he knows Magnus will deny any sort of love he holds out for him--

Magnus takes whatever Alec gives him, _reaches_ for it from Alec’s hands just to _feel_ something other than the horrid, biting decay of his wings. Every time he sees another feather on the floor, or he feels them fall from their hold in the morning, the failure he’s home with makes itself more comfortable.

“Why won’t you tell me about your nightmares?” Alec asks, a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder, thumb moving over the skin Magnus’ shirt doesn’t cover.

“They’re my demons, not yours,” he replies, moving into Alec, head to his chest, “I won’t let you suffer through them, too.”

“But you’re suffering alone, and I don’t want that.”

“And why do _you_ want that, Alexander?”

“Because I see something in you,” Alec replies, nonchalant, as if the words come easy to him, “something you don’t.”

Magnus takes a step back, Alec’s hand falling from his shoulder, causing Alec to slowly let it fall back to his side. He’s not sure why Magnus found that hurtful to hear, but the way he pushes his shoulders back, it’s like he’s trying to find the meaning in his own pain somewhere.

He’ll never find it, Alec knows that, knows that Magnus will continue to feel his worth decay along with his wings, continuously falling until Magnus can’t feel the world race past him anymore.

“Why waste your life looking for something you’ll never find?”

Alec remains where he stands, looking at Magnus, watching as the words he speaks slowly poison his own hopes that Alec will stay. He keeps wanting to push away, to tell Alec that there’s no use saving a bird that’s forgotten what the skies look like, what the wind feels like pushing and lifting his wings up high past the skyline.

There’s no such thing as grounded, not when Magnus’ wings are still pure at heart, just broken, but not beyond repair. His feathers remain dull, grey inking his feathers at the roots. Magnus isn’t a vulture gone mad from greed and ill intentions, otherwise his wings would’ve turned black, void of any sort of life even though their feathers remain clinging to the mad soul that commands them.

Magnus is pure at heart, and Alec has seen how he turns away from Alec’s affection, almost as if he’s scared of remembering what being happy feels like, even if just for a moment.

“I won’t find it,” Alec looks down, guilty that he won’t be the one to find Magnus’ will to fly again, “You will. Only you can.”

This is the part where Magnus says _no,_ that Alec is a fool for believing something so odd, something that’s already been proven to be wrong. Magnus has been trying to find that missing answer for the state of his wings, but he’s been in denial all this time.

He knows, because Magnus’ heart bleeds constantly, bruised and broken with hands that have _squeezed_ it dry.

Alec, he’s different. He’s afraid to go near his heart, even _if_ he kisses him, hugs him like he’s known him his whole life _._ Magnus thinks he does it to see if the words do something, that the gold will slowly find its way back to him, but the words only pull at his heart, making the wounds it bares for the world to see in between his feathers grow, to never heal.

Alec can't pick him up like he wants to, to hold him and hope he loves him in return, because even Magnus’ spine stings with the weight of his heartbreak.

Magnus is so saddeningly fragile, and Alec just wants to reach out and keep him safe, but even the wish to hug Magnus close can break him, bruise him. It’s this constant push and pull that keeps Alec so tense, Magnus thinking he’s pushed him straight to the edge, but Alec doesn’t back down.

He’s still here, still wanting to save Magnus from this invisible hatred he has for himself, a darkness that clouds his mind, voices that tell him the most wicked things about the decay of his wings--

But Alec is here, he’s staying. He’s not leaving like the souls that took his heart before. Alec sees something in Magnus, something Magnus can’t, and the hope he’ll see it one day keeps him entwined to Alec.

So Magnus takes hold of Alec’s shirt, looks him in the eye, parts his own lips to speak, but the words don’t follow. They’re stuck in his throat again, fear of the same heartbreak happening _again._

Alec, though, he feels different, _sees_ Magnus differently, and it makes Magnus want to explore, to skip to the end and hope he’s not ruining the chance of something golden, something whole and fulfilling. He can’t even remember the last time he wanted something like that and not just to fill the void he feels inside his chest.

He pulls him down, just a little, enough to feel Alec’s gentle breathing on his lips, closing his eyes and _wanting_ to kiss him, but a genuine voice keeps him back.

Oh, Magnus is tired of that voice, so much so that he wants to silence it.

“And what if you’re right? What if I’m the only one and I can’t find it?” his voice is rough, hesitation taking hold of his throat, but Alec doesn’t falter in his step to walk closer, hands almost ghosting over Magnus’ hips, scared in case he’ll bruise his memories.

“Then I’ll be here,” Alec promises, almost, lifting a hand to cup the man’s cheek, thumb gently pressing against the corner of his mouth, hoping one day he’ll see him truly smile. “I’ll be here for as long as it takes, no matter how many times you want to push me away.”

Magnus swallows, his next breath almost a sob, Alec very clear in how Magnus subconsciously goes silent, but Alec refuses to let Magnus fade, stubborn in his mindset but not cold.

“You’re a fool,” whispers Magnus, leaning into Alec’s hand without knowing it, tips of his fingers brushing down the side of his neck.

“Maybe,” Alec says back, lifting Magnus’ head as it starts to droop, “but finding you, I know I’ll find the answer soon. I’ll know why I couldn’t turn my back on you.”

Alec’s lip part, breath escaping as words fall from his tongue, uncontrolled, heavy with confusion that Alec’s not sure how to answer. Magnus becomes aware that he's not alone in this battle either, staring into the hazel of Alec's eyes, questions hidden that need answers, too.

He's afraid to what those answers are.

Alec kisses him, softly, just enough to feel Magnus fall into him a little more. And then he’s holding on, taking hold of Alec’s wrist, thumb moving over his knuckles as he holds his head.

“You shouldn’t waste your time on birds that can’t fly,” murmurs Magnus, words spoken over Alec’s lips, cold and a little numb, “All this time you’re wasting on the ground for nothing.”

“It’s not for nothing, I-- _feel_ something with you, something I didn’t think was possible. You may not believe me, but one day, I’ll prove it to you.”

“How can you feel for something not complete?” and this time, when Magnus speaks, his voice is distant, looking through Alec, visions of past pain circling themselves around his mind, reaching up from the depths of the darkness below.

Alec simply looks at him, hand falling down the side of his neck once more, brushing over the soft but slightly blue bruise on his shoulders. Magnus’ face twitches a little, locking up from pain when the tips of Alec’s fingers move towards his shoulder blades.

“You’re in so much pain, Magnus, how do you expect yourself to feel complete?” even with how gently Alec touches him, a feathers weight in pressure, small scratches of rough skin from countless bad landings when he was little; Alec can see he’s built well, but with the lack of will to do anything and the damage of his wings, Magnus is becoming frail.

“I’m not helpless,” he argues, causing Alec to look back at him directly, not at the way his shoulder moves into his touch, wanting the comfort, but the sting of the pain keeps him pulling back, “Just-- lost. I’m _done.”_

“No, you’re not,” Alec kisses him then, feeling Magnus’ hands move to his chest, light in grip before pulling him closer, “You’re grounded, but that doesn’t mean you have nothing to lift you back up.”

“Yeah?” Magnus’ mind goes places, the euphoria of something that’ll rattle his soul to the boundaries, to warm his lungs so they catch fire.

“Yeah,” Alec responds, kissing the edge of his mouth, back to his lips when Magnus closes his eyes, giving in to what his heart painfully yearns for, to be _close_ , to _forget._

“Please,” he says between kissing, reaching for breaths that are taken away as quick as they come, tumbling between them as Magnus doesn’t realise he’s walking backwards until the glow he sees behind closed eyes fades to darkness.

Alec swears he hears Magnus say _show me,_ a little breathless when he opens his eyes again, the darkness of the bedroom warm, almost _too_ warm.

The entire way, Alec has been guiding him with ghostly hands by his sides, making sure his wings don’t bump the edges of doors, that he doesn’t actually step on the feathers that now trail beside him, some being left behind as they move. Alec wants Magnus to heal, for him to feel the growing love that swirls inside his heart, to hold him and hope Magnus loves him back.

But Magnus knows what this is for him, the silent look Alec gives him as Magnus turns around, facing towards the bed--

This is to forget, to let him see if Alec is the one to heal him, to fall in love and hope it doesn’t rip him to shreds.

Alec can’t see his face anymore, but he knows it’s stricken with pain as Magnus lifts his hands, trying to reach back.

Magnus feels Alec’s hands take hold of his, bringing them down to allow them to rest by his sides, _hearing_ the exhale as the pain needs release.

“Let me,” gently, Alec tugs on the zip at the top of his shirt collar, pulling down slowly, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin beneath, “Breathe.”

He doesn’t believe in Alec, at least not yet, but with how careful he is and the words he speaks, perhaps Magnus can allow himself this, to fall into arms for a few minutes and hope he doesn’t leave.

Magnus keeps his head up, but it starts to droop as the zip reaches the middle of his back, the shirt falling apart, fabric moving as the weight of itself pulls it down.

Alec is aware of the pain Magnus feels, but he doesn’t know the extent until he sees it.

Purple, blue and yellow bruises plague his skin, intertwining like nebulas that make his skin look sore. Previous attempts of healing have fallen short, the roots of his wings making the surrounding area red, and Alec’s eyes try to take it all in.

But it hurts, it really does, to see a bird so beautiful grounded, his wings clipped mentally because people dared not to care for Magnus. Alec knew he’d been left behind, but the extent to which, Alec had no idea, not until now.

“Changing your mind?” Magnus says over his shoulder, not even trying to keep his wings held up, naturally letting them fall, the pain too much to keep them close to his own back.

He hasn't been able to fold them comfortably ever since the day he woke up to the gold fading from his feathers.

Alec doesn’t know how to respond to that, at least not right now. But Alec doesn’t leave, he stays, one hand coming up to hover between his wings where the bruises are most prominent, wanting to touch, to somehow heal him through contact, but there’s no way that could possibly work.

It’s foolish to think it would. There’s no real magic in the world, that’s one thing Alec _doesn’t_ believe in.

“I have--,” he stutters, the image of Magnus’ damaged back so jarring, so strangling that Alec has to blink, remembering what he wants to say, “I have some stuff that might help you.”

Magnus hears his footsteps, quick and heavy as he walks to the side towards the small bag he carried with him on the day they met. He’s never really bothered with it often, but now, he’s rummaging through it to find what he needs.

There’s a little _aha_ as Alec finds what he’s looking for. He pulls out a clear bottle, filled with what seems to be cream, coloured a gentle green. His smile beams as Magnus catches his eyes on the way back to him, his proud wings hugged closely behind him, and once again Magnus doesn’t return it.

Jealousy, there’s a glint of it somewhere, deep in the cuts of his heart.

“Can you-- _um,_ lay down? Get comfortable?”

“Why?” Magnus turns, just a little so he can look at Alec, holding the bottle in his hand that’s swamped by how large those hands are.

“I want to help you, to see if this numbs the pain,” he shakes the bottle, showing it’s a heavy consistency as it doesn’t move, “It’s a remedy I use when my own wings feel sore.”

Alec realises how that might sound, and he parts his lips to apologise, but Magnus is already turning away. It’s too late to apologise for that.

“Why should I trust you with anything?”

“If you’ve taught me anything in the short time I’ve known you,” Alec says, watching as Magnus walks to the bed, halting just as his knees touch the end, “It’s that you shouldn’t trust anything, not until you understand it.”

Magnus huffs, looking to the grey sheets of the bed and wondering if colour has been fading from his life, not just his wings, “But you don’t understand me.”

Alec sighs, “No, I don’t,” he walks closer, catching up to him, hand moving to hold his from behind, “But I’m trying. I really want to try.”

There’s a voice inside Magnus, telling him that _Alec will leave, they always do, they always leave and never return--_

But he shivers, trying to block out the voice, a voice that’s spoken to him countless times and proven itself right time and time again. He shouldn’t trust Alec, he shouldn’t let himself fall and hope Alec will catch him when no one ever does.

Magnus will be damned if he misses this, though, a moment in time where maybe he’ll forget about all the pain, to just get lost in himself even though someone else is there.

He steps forward, lifting one leg onto the bed, and Alec is there, helping him lay down on his stomach, wings falling off to the sides. His movements are almost robotic, afraid one sudden movement will jolt the true pain of his broken wings down to the root of his spine.

Alec’s hands never touch him, at least not truly, following him like ghosts, eager to feel what’s real again.

“Alec,” the shortened version of his name strikes something different inside, the start of something he fears will break more than mend, “Don’t be scared.”

 _Oh, but I am;_ Alec thinks, sitting beside him on the bed, wondering why anyone would bring so much sadness and haunting memories to a man who simply wants to _be._

“I don’t want to hurt you, Magnus.”

“You won’t,” his voice pushes against the sheets, almost non existent, but Alec hears it. He’s listening, he always will, “I’m already too far gone to be broken any more.”

Glass shatters in Alec’s lungs, and he doesn't know if the sob he hears is his own or Magnus. Either way, the weight those words hold, the shattering power they have to break Alec’s resolve-- it works, and Alec begins to crumble.

He sniffs, holding it back, and he has no idea why the words of a man he barely knows hurt him so much, almost to the point where he breaks. Perhaps they do understand each other in the most wicked, confusing way, and one day they’ll understand each other more than just the lost feelings they have holding them down from reaching the skyline.

“Okay,” Alec takes the bottle, emptying some of the remedy onto the tips of his fingers, watching as Magnus remains unmoving, only the slight lift and fall of his chest occurring from his breathing. “It’ll feel cold, but it’ll get warm.”

Magnus doesn’t answer, mentally preparing himself for the bite of the pain.

It comes in waves, first from the gentle press on his skin, to the more firm push. He parts his lips, a silent cry falling free, but as quick as the pain bubbles to the surface, the cold numbs the bruises beneath his skin, the warmth of Alec’s hands soothing, easing a hunger for touch that’s been starved for too long.

Alec pushes up between Magnus’ shoulders blades, massaging with his thumbs back down, careful not to push hard enough that he catches the deep roots of his wings. They don’t even react, his wings; lifeless, a few feathers falling loose as Magnus’ body moves, trying to escape from Alec’s hands, but it’s just a natural reaction.

Magnus wants to stay, wants to know why Alec is so gentle, unknotting the years of pain hiding deep inside.

The remedy starts to warm, and the relief of the heat, the firm yet gentle massage of Alec’s hands-- it’s _bliss,_ a small moment of relief from years of thinking he’d never escape such a pain.

“How’s that?” Alec asks, pausing, not daring to go anywhere near the base of his wings, keeping to his shoulders, between his shoulder blades.

“It feels, strange,” Magnus tries to push up, thinking it’s over, but Alec keeps his hands there, not even pressing down when Magnus struggles to lift the dead weight of his wings. “Ah, _shit._ I can’t get back up.”

“You don’t need to,” Alec says, moving so he dips his head down to Magnus, catching the moment his eyes light up upon seeing him, dropping to his lips. “Just relax, rest.”

“So you can escape when I fall asleep?” it’s almost a joke, but the sincerity painted in Magnus’ eyes when he says it tells Alec it’s nowhere near one.

“No,” hovering over Magnus now, Alec pushes his thumbs into the back of his neck, his lips kissing his cheek. “Just relax, let me try and ease the pain.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he’s breathless when Alec moves his hands down from his neck, thumbs heavier in their push than his fingers, a contrast that catches fire as he moves down his spine, pain numb from the remedy, “My pain is my own.”

“Doesn’t mean you should suffer alone,” when Magnus closes his eyes, Alec closes his eyes, too, kissing behind his ear, down the side of Magnus’ neck and listening to the way he breathes.

Each one is like a release of the tension, the pain Magnus feels tumbling from him like ocean waves, loud as they crash but gentle as they return.

Alec keeps his hands moving, feeling the skin twitch beneath his fingertips, the push and pull of wanting to feel the touch to bring him home, but to avoid the pain that’ll follow when those fingertips leave.

It’s hell and heaven at the same time, and Magnus wants to find that feeling that’ll hold him, no matter how short.

So when Alec pulls away, Magnus reaches his arm back, taking hold of Alec's arm, grip steady but twitching from the pain that crawls back.

“Don’t,” he says, and Alec looks to Magnus as he looks to him, head turned, eyes speaking what he really wants, “Stay, please, I need you.”

Magnus doesn’t want to admit it to this stranger, but every second that goes by, he feels Alec is less of a wild storm that tosses and turns his heart around, but is more gentle, wanting to carry him to safety.

Alec looks at him, _really_ looks at him, “Magnus, I--,”

“Please,” there it is again, the voice he thinks he says in his head, but says out loud instead.

“Are you sure?” Alec asks, wanting to be certain, leaning down to catch his voice even if it’s silent.

Magnus doesn’t answer, not yet, not when the hazel of Alec’s eyes shine with uncertainty, a fear only a man with something to lose can show.

“Yes,” he says, tugging on Alec’s arm again, “Make the pain go away.”

This is bad, really bad.

Alec is falling in love, and it's barely been two weeks, and now Magnus is asking him to help him _forget,_ that he doesn't believe Alec would love him like this naturally.

He can't help but want to ask, gritting his teeth as he looks down to Magnus’ wings; _why would anyone ever break your heart?_

Guilt holds Magnus’ throat, makes him turn away from Alec, aware that there’s something sparking between them, burning out with every denial they so freely gift each other like it's some sort of competition. But this, when Alec moves his hands again, he can close his eyes and just-- _fade away._

But it’s when Alec’s hands move lower, pressing at the root of his spine does he lose his breath, looking over his shoulder to Alec, locking eyes with him as Alec tugs at his waistband.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, once more.

Magnus feels a twang inside his heart. He's opening up his heart again, but he doesn't realise it's still closed up, even for Alec, seeing him from the outside and how his soul is just _crying_ to be told why he can't be loved.

Even Alec, a man who is searching for something, leaving his family with the determination to find it, is scared of how afraid he feels; _I don't want to love you, but I am. I don't want to be another to break your heart, please._

 _“Yes,”_ Magnus’ voice is so fragile, but there’s a new strength held behind the weight of that word when he says it, “But what about you? Do-- _you_ want this?”

Mirrored thoughts are rare, but Magnus has one; _I don't want to be the one to break your heart, Alec. I know what that feels like._

_But I want to try. I want to learn to love you, I just don't know how._

“Yeah,” and Alec feels his heart collapse, wanting to say the rest; _you have no idea how much I want to make you believe you deserve love._

Alec answers his request, removing the rest of the clothing Magnus wears with careful, delicate hands, thumbs massaging when skin reveals itself. Alec sheds only what he needs to, knowing this isn’t about him, or them, or anything in between; this is about Magnus, helping him feel something other than the pain, _hoping_ he feels how much Alec wants to love him to the dear end.

_Maybe if we have this, we won’t need anything else. I won’t have to love you until it breaks me again._

“You’re beautiful, Magnus,” Alec speaks against the back of his neck, the words falling down to tickle the rim of his right ear.

Magnus doesn’t want to believe him, doesn’t want to believe how sincere and broken Alec sounds. And _why_ is he broken? Why does he sound so lost?

He’s foolish, believing that Alec is just another man. Magnus always falls in love with the soul before anything else, but the pain he feels fogs that, blinds him to the man that just wants to hold and love and everything in between.

So when Alec starts to kiss down his spine, soft, gentle, nothing compared to the press of his hands-- Magnus lets himself believe, just for now.

Even when he places one kiss against his wings, Magnus doesn’t feel it, but he watches Alec from over his shoulder, how his face strains when he pulls back. He’s expecting the magic he doesn’t believe in to envelope Magnus’ wings, to heal them with true love's kiss, but it doesn’t happen.

And now that he thinks about it, it sounds silly to believe in such a thing, echoing through him that there’s no such thing as that, only what they feel in the here and now. Or, it’s that Magnus doesn’t love him, not yet, not in the way he wants to be loved.

Either way, Magnus’ body still moves into his gentle kisses, the gentle hold of Alec’s hands, the remedy working wonders for his aching muscles cursed with carrying the weight of his wings.

“That’s not true,” Magnus thinks he’s saying it in his head, but Alec hears it, causing him to halt, looking up to the eyes that are now looking away, distant, trying to force the memories away that surface. _“It’s never real.”_

Alec crawls back up to Magnus’ face, “Hey,” he says, smiling as Magnus finally looks back to him again, “Can I kiss you?”

_Why are you asking, when we have already?_

_Why are you still here?_

He takes a leap.

Magnus turns just a little, enough to kiss Alec slowly, tender, the arm closest to him reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. When they break, Magnus’ eyes wear the confusion he feels, wondering why Alec chooses to ask now out of every other time except their first.

“You’re a strange man, Alec,” and Alec laughs at that, knowing why he’s saying such a thing. Magnus finds himself wanting to remember that sound, hoping it’ll stay with him in other ways than a memory.

“I am, maybe,” and he kisses Magnus again, thumb pushing against one of Magnus’ shoulder blades, Magnus’ breath falling loose over his lips, having to break away from the odd shiver that rolls through him, “But being with you, it makes me feel different. It makes me feel…”

Alec never finishes the sentence, lost in what to say.

He doesn’t understand it, what he feels, and right now he doesn’t think there’s a good explanation that’ll make him learn what it is. Time is the only cure for that question, and if Magnus allows him, he’ll learn it with him.

“Don’t say words you can’t keep, Alexander,” Magnus’ arm tugs him closer, “So don’t say anything.”

 _Just feel,_ he wants to say, watching Alec's eyes fall to his lips, _but don't let it consume you._

Magnus doesn’t want Alec falling for someone who won’t be able to rise again, and knowing that Alec will live a life with a flightless soul, unable to reach new heights and see the world as is their birthright; it’s a pain that bruises deeper than his own wings.

Alec can’t argue with him, because he holds the same doubt, the same unforgiving dream of living the perfect life with the love of his life, and right now it’s all jumbled, a mess of pain and the unknown keeping him at a distance.

But each day they push closer, closer and closer until there’s no turning back, unless it’s turning away _forever._

One day, one day he’ll prove he can keep those words, but right now, he can’t.

So Alec kisses him instead, almost as if doing so is a mutual agreement not to go further in discussing such matters, just to focus on the here and now; Magnus laying under him, Alec massaging the countless years of knots from his muscles, the curling desire--

And oh, Magnus didn’t realise that Alec would make him feel like _this._

His hands, those lips, his eyes as they watch him with everything he does, making sure he’s okay, that he’s not hurting Magnus. He still hurts, but it’s his heart, mourning that this’ll be the end, that Alec will be gone once their time is up.

Alec moves with a finesse that’s awfully patient, and it almost makes Magnus crazy with desire _,_ fingers curling into sheets as minutes pass by, no words exchanged, only the words carried by eyes, a language neither of them can speak.

 _It’s alright,_ he says to himself, that _this’ll just be another dream after tomorrow--_ but the way Alec kisses his cheek, hands holding him like a gift he doesn’t feel worthy of having, he’s reminded how frighteningly real this is.

His heart thumps, once twice, and _again_ when Alec finally joins them, sighing into the pillow. Magnus reaching back with one of his hands to find Alec’s, and he does, joining their fingers and _pulling._

Alec falls down, catching himself before his body crushes against Magnus’ broken wings. Resting his forehead against Magnus’ left shoulder, he tries to gain his conscious back, wondering why this feels so different to every other time he’s had before.

Maybe it’s Magnus, maybe it’s Alec, maybe it’s the situation they’re both in, mixed between denial and fantasy; it twists something inside them, breaks and bends it when they never thought it to be possible.

 _“God,_ Alec,” Magnus says, short on breath to say his full name, the name Alec smiles at so sweetly, replaced right now by a tight line, “Why does this feel so--”

Lifting his head, Alec halts the roll of his hips, hand coming up to cup his face, the other keeping him steady about him, _“Dont,_ don’t say anything.”

_Don’t say words you can’t keep._

And Magnus doesn’t, pushing his head back to the pillow and letting himself go, letting his world mould to Alec only. Squeezing their joint hands tighter, Alec kisses along whatever skin he can reach, gentle, almost as if he’s a ghost of Magnus’ worst and best imagination.

Worst; because he’s a hope he’ll never have, and best because this is all he wants, to feel grounded in a way that doesn’t make him feel _trapped._

Alec swears he hears it, the cry of his name, the desperate little sob he makes as he turns his head away. He falls closer, letting his wings fall with him, spreading out so they shadow over Magnus’, and for a moment, Magnus shines.

Opening his eyes, Magnus looks at the bronze staring straight back at him, and Magnus feels his heart do a little _tug,_ the thought of having his wings back a thought far from reality-- but he’s seeing it, as faked as that reality is.

Magnus knows Alec is doing it for him, but that doesn’t change what he feels, how he reaches out and feels along the feathers. Alec sighs over the skin between his shoulder blades, the fingers in his feathers tickling him, letting Magnus believe for a moment he’s healed. It sounds awful to do such a thing, but from how Magnus _grips_ the feathers, moving back into Alec, he can see how much it means that he’s allowed him to do that.

Alec cares, he really does. Magnus admires that, a lot.

He moves with tender care, letting Magnus feel every second, every breath that rolls against the back of his neck, the way Alec’s hand squeezes his when emotions run a little wild.

Alec moves up then, softly pulling one of his hands out of Magnus’ grip to move it down Magnus’ back, watching himself enter Magnus over and over again. Magnus’ muscles twitch with every roll of his hips and Alec is mesmerized, his fingers following a silent call of desire as they begin to knead the skin beneath them.

Alec knows it was the right thing to do when he hears Magnus’ breath stutter, feels and _sees_ the way his body quivers under the ministrations. His fingers travel lower and lower still until they come to a stop right where their bodies are joint and Alec feels this desperate and all consuming need to touch. He's helpless when Magnus starts to move back into his curious explorations, and something in his gut _twists._

 _Fuck,_ he's falling way too fast, knows why he's doing this, remembering the most intimate parts with every sense he can; because Magnus won't let him have this again. He can see it, what the future holds, how Magnus will only look back on this as a few minutes of ignorant bliss, wanting to forget the pain he feels is his own wrongdoing.

Even when Alec closes his eyes, trying to silence the doubt, the voice breaks its way past the small facade of love he's found, Magnus moving with him, kissing him back and breaths reaching out; _you knew what you were getting into. This is for Magnus, not you, you even said it yourself._

The voice is right, and his spine feels like it's going to break from the weight of that realisation.

Magnus looks at Alec over his shoulder, not being able to see the hazel eyes he wants to solve, Alec hiding his face away as he looks down, eyes closed.

It's almost the end, and Alec feels that in more ways than one. Magnus, too.

He leans down again and with one last kiss to Magnus’ shoulder blades, Alec feels himself falling, more and more until he _crashes._ He moans Magnus’ name against the back of his neck, the hand now on Magnus’ hips squeezing a little tighter, trying to hold himself together.

Magnus falls apart beneath him, breathing heavy into the pillow he’s hugging, trying to hide how his eyes swim with love, a single tear falling down his cheek. He wants to say it, to say that he’ll start believing in Alec, but his horrors are still close, nipping at his heels.

But the warmth taking hold of him, Alec’s body hugging around him, careful not to press too much weight on his bruises; he feels _free._

He feels as if his wings don’t matter; that only Alec’s lips on his neck is the comfort he needs, the warmth of Alec’s body as fire for winters to come, the bliss that blooms flowers in his veins as he finally reaches the edge--

And Alec hears, _feels_ when Magnus falls.

Magnus’ wings twitch, and Alec squeezes his arms around him, feeling the expanse of Magnus’ chest as he takes deep breaths after the big one, wanting him to believe he won’t leave.

When Magnus calms, Alec loosens his arms from around him, his abdominal muscles _screaming_ from holding his body up, out of the way of Magnus’ wings. But to hold him like that, to feel Magnus lose himself and sing his name, it makes Alec’s heart want to beat through the wall of its cage. It’s fleeting to hear his name fall from his lips like that, no matter how much what they just did won’t shine light on anything.

Alec did this for Magnus, selfishly believing he wouldn’t feel anything from it. But he’s a fool, Magnus is right, because he’s tripping and falling for this man who doesn’t believe he’s worth the love he wants to give.

 _“Alexander,”_ there it is, the full version of his name, the one he gave Magnus when he accused him of being a man with too many secrets.

But his voice sounds dry, like he needs water. It’s from him holding back, not wanting to fall too far at the start, and eventually just letting go.

So Alec kisses between his shoulder blades, then again before pushing himself up. His wings lift with him, Magnus’ fingers falling to the bed, and the bronze that made Magnus feel alive is gone. Alec watches him reach back, searching for him, and the more he moves away, the more Magnus feels cold.

“I’ll be right back,” he shuffles to the edge of the bed, throwing what little clothes he took off back on, “I think you need some water.”

“No,” Magnus says, and the way his voice sounds proves what Alec thinks even more, “No, please don’t leave.”

Oh, those words, they grip Alec so tightly. They’re broken, horribly so.

He pulls up the sheet after cleaning up, letting the soft cotton cover up to Magnus’ elbows, keeping him warm.

“I’m not leaving, I promise,” he shuffles over to where Magnus reaches for him, taking his hand and squeezing, “I’ll be back soon, really soon, sooner than soon.” his smile doesn’t even break the lost look on Magnus’ face, looking through Alec as the words sink in.

_I’m just heading out._

_I’ll be back when the moon comes out._

_I’ll be back in a day or two._

Magnus doesn’t want Alec’s goodbye to be added to the countless ones he’s haunted to remember.

Letting go of Alec’s hand stops time, a moment where Magnus sees his fingers breaking contact, skin turning cold where Alec’s skin once touched. And then his arm falls, the image of Alec fading towards the door, world growing blurry as it happens again.

He’s leaving. Alec is leaving.

Magnus is losing another spark inside his heart to another wound, his feathers decaying that little bit more, feeling the pain return when the remedy of Alec’s hands nulled it before.

 _“Alec,”_ his lost voice calls for him, but it’s a whisper, Alec not being able to hear him even as the door remains ajar, _“Alexander.”_

Feeling the warmth of seconds ago fade to nothing but a sour memory, Magnus pushes his face to the pillow, not letting his tears fall as they threaten to break free.

He really thought Alec would be the one to stay, with those heavenly smiles, cheeky, deep laugh and beautiful eyes he never saw every shade of-- it hurts deep down, knowing that Alec was the one he _wanted_ to stay out of all of the others he’s loved and lost.

 _“Magnus,”_ even his voice remains, saying his name, a familiar feeling of his hands shaking him awake, but he’s not sure if that rocking is the quake of his lungs or something real, _“Magnus?”_

Whatever it is, pushes again, and Magnus closes his hands to fists, forcing his mind to _squeeze_ whatever sick game it’s trying to play from his imagination.

“Magnus, hey,” the voice is back again, very clearly Alec’s voice, concern woven between each word he speaks, “I got you a glass of water.”

_What?_

Why would his dreams think of something so mundane? To wish of Alec collecting a glass of water after he’s been crying out his name?

No, it can’t be. There’s no way any of this is real, it never has been, and Magnus doesn’t believe he deserves such a thing to come true, anyway.

Maybe, though, just _maybe,_ his luck is turning, Alec truly changing how fate twists and turns his broken wings in a storm that never seems to be ending.

Reluctant, Magnus turn his head away from where he’s been hiding it in the pillow, eyes still closed but the world seems to be much brighter than before. There’s a flickering light, close, but not close enough that it’d wake him up if he’s trying to sleep.

He dares himself to open his eyes, and he does. What else does he have left to lose?

Relief, warm but _gripping_ as it takes hold of him. His shaky exhale does nothing to make Alec surrender the concern on his face, his hazel eyes a little pale from how much he’s seeing Magnus hurt.

Alec thought he’d made it better, even if just a little, that he helped Magnus forget-- to just _feel_ something new, not pain.

Magnus watches him part his lips, the candle Alec brought to the bedroom dancing beside them, framing Alec in this warm, silent light.

 _“Magnus…”_ Alec’s shoulders fall, his wings drooping behind him, feathers to the floor as he kneels at Magnus’ bedside. The glass of water in his hand rests near Magnus’ hand from where he reaches for Alec, “I-- I’m so, _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.”

 _“You--_ you’re not leaving?” Magnus thinks that, but once again, he’s saying it out loud. There’s something about Alec that doesn’t make him afraid of saying everything he feels, no matter how much it pulls the wounds on his heart.

Alec, for a moment, looks taken back, “I-- _no_ . No, _no no no._ No, Magnus, I’m not leaving,” he lifts up his hand holding the glass of water, showing Magnus proof to back up sincere truth, “I went to get you some water, your voice sounds like it’s painful.”

He gestures the glass of water towards him, and Magnus stares at it like it’s the most confusing thing he’s ever seen.

Deep down, he feels the voice that Alec silenced for those few minutes surface again, but this time it’s not condescending or frightful, it says what he’s feeling; _maybe I was right. Maybe I can have this, that Alec will show me what life is without my wings._

Magnus can feel his heart is reaching to unattainable goals, but damn, he’ll try until every last part of him doesn't see the reason to fight on anymore.

And that realisation, the part that breaks him the most, is that Alec smiles, the shine in his eyes saying words he doesn’t have the strength to speak; _it’s okay, Magnus. It’s okay to want this, to cry and have small victories._

“You.. you’re not happy, are you?” Alec says, not seeing a shift in Magnus’ marble expression, a mix between being lost and wanting to hold onto the happiness falling between his fingers.

“I don’t know how to feel, what to feel,” breathing deep, he looks up to Alec instead of the glass, wondering if he _did_ decide to leave, but decided to come back because of the guilt, “With you, I don’t understand _anything,_ not anymore.”

Alec is different, a mystery Magnus can’t solve even with the pain that feels part of his DNA.

He chooses not to say anything in reply to that, ache present in his bones as they feel hollow. Alec places the glass of water onto the bedside table, rising to his feet, but never losing sight of Magnus.

“Like I said, I’m not leaving, I’m staying,” he walks around to his side of the bed, removing his socks he put back on because of the cold that’s biting Magnus’ apartment. “But please, sit up and drink some water.”

Magnus mumbles something, and Alec doesn’t hear him this time.

As he pulls the sheet back, he sees Magnus’ wing is still there, and Alec knows that moving it will disturb the peace Magnus currently holds so dear.

“Move it,” Magnus says, aware he’s staring. “I’ll be alright.”

“No, it’s fine,” Alec pulls the sheet back up, taking his pillow, moving round to Magnus’ side again, throwing it to the floor, “I’ll stay here.”

“You can’t sleep on the floor, Alec,” he feels boneless, at peace, but he doesn’t feel he’ll fall asleep without Alec’s arms around him, “Please, just-- help me move it, slowly.”

Alec bites his lip, debating, knowing that if he sleeps down there, Magnus won’t see him when he wakes up. He doesn’t want Magnus to feel he’s lost him when he doesn’t even really have him.

“Alright, but you have to tell me when it’s hurting, okay?” Alec replies.

 _It's hurting right now, to want something I can't have,_ “Yes, yes. I will.”

For a moment, Alec just looks at him, but then he’s moving forward, deciding to move the wing on Magnus’ side of the bed so the light of the candle doesn’t irritate him in his sleep. The vultures won’t bother disturbing them if there’s a light, no matter how small.

Climbing onto the bed, Alec gets close enough so that he can lift his stray wing, double checking with Magnus that it's still okay to do so.

Alec, hands gentle as always, feel for the main arm of his right wing, hearing Magnus’ little hiss when he finds it. And when he counts to three, Magnus grits his teeth, Alec sinking his hands under the wing, directly under the arm and pushes up, letting him breathe out as he lowers it back down, careful not to just let the weight drop.

It’s over in seconds, but the pain still lingers, remnants of pin pricks and throbbing at the roots of his wings.

Magnus sighs, letting his shoulders lose their tension, wings spread out behind him as he now lays on his side, facing the candle that still flickers.

“Is that alright? It doesn’t hurt your other wing, does it?”

“No, no,” Magnus replies, watching Alec as he surveys Magnus’ wings, making sure that even if Magnus is lying, he’ll know the truth in how he’ll shift, uncomfortable from the pain, “I’m fine, come here, please.”

And Alec follows, albeit a few seconds after he checks Magnus’ wings again, but he lays down, fitting next to him as if it was meant to be.

Magnus places a hand against his chest, fingertips moving the fabric as it follows his movement, creating new shadows and creases that never last long.

He wants to say it, to say _thank you, thank you for helping me feel something;_ but his words fail to speak, throat dry. Alec must’ve seen him part his lips only to lick them, as he’s reaching back for the water, asking Magnus to lean up a little so he can drink.

“Feel better?” Alec asks, keeping the glass close just incase Magnus needs another few sips.

“Yes,” replies Magnus, looking down, then back up to Alec again, “thank you.”

Alec smiles a little, placing the glass back onto the side. Turning his attention back to him, Alec rests his head against the pillow, watching as Magnus settles back down, a little sore, but he’s more at peace than he was earlier.

“You must be bored, looking after me all the time.”

“It’s been two weeks, Magnus, and I’m not looking after you. You just need a little support, that’s all, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” placing a hand against his cheek, he feels Magnus ease into the pillow more, Alec moving closer to hug him, “Needing help doesn’t make you weaker. Remember that.”

Magnus closes his eyes, listening to Alec talk, the rumble of the very words as they’re made in his throat. It all feels so real, so achingly real that Magnus reaches out, hugs Alec close, breathes him in.

He doesn’t know if Magnus listened to him, but Alec must’ve said something to gather such a reaction. Magnus hasn’t held him this tight in the two weeks they’ve known each other. It’s either because of the sex, or because Magnus is _finally_ letting himself feel something, or to let himself _understand_ something.

“Don’t you miss it?” asks Magnus, nervous at the silence that follows.

Alec shuffles a little, “Miss what?”

“Whatever life you had before me,” and soon he realises he’s missed something out, “Well, this isn’t really a life, is it?”

Nothing about this is a life; it’s hiding, slowly decaying with what they hope to find. Alec left his life to discover something he’s missing, and Magnus is stuck in the past, haunted by centuries of lovers that have left him behind.

“I can’t answer that.”

“Maybe you will, one day,” Magnus replies, opening his eyes, seeing darkness, the dark fabric of Alec’s shirt. He watches his hands close around the fabric, the steady rhythm of his breathing, “I hope you find it.”

Alec hates the cold tone of his voice, almost lifeless.

 _I already have,_ Alec says to himself, _you just don’t see it._

Right now, what Magnus does know; is that he needs comfort, he needs _Alec._ It’s taken him two weeks, if not _years_ for him to accept that, that needing something doesn’t necessarily make him greedy, weak or disposable.

Alec must feel that in the way Magnus holds him, tugging at his shirt to bring him closer, and Alec follows suit. His arms hug around his shoulders, planting small kisses on his neck, then all the way up to his temple where Alec whispers _goodnight,_ squeezing Magnus a little, his bronze wing reaching up and over them.

 

* * *

  

He can't sleep.

Magnus hasn’t been successful either, but he’s fooling Alec to believe that he is. He’s perfectly fine with the silence, almost as if he’s savouring the moment they’re having, in fear of not having this again. Who knows when things will change, because Magnus doubts they’ll stay the same.

Alec's fingertips that move delicately over Magnus’ skin eventually come to a halt, remembering how Magnus reached for his hand to hold.

Was he trying to say something? That he wants this, whatever they are?

He can't help but think about how Magnus didn't even believe he'd stay, that he has so little faith in how much Alec actually feels for him. It's obvious by now this is no one lane matter, multiple avenues they can go down, hopping between them and hoping they don't get barged into on the way, knocked from their rhythm.

But even now, their hearts don't really know how to handle this; _love._ It's a _thing_ neither of them can hope to comprehend. Magnus has given up on it, and Alec is yet to find it. How can Alec even _try_ to imagine it when every time Alec smiles at Magnus, he's consumed by this awful ache in his chest when he doesn't smile back _._

A losing battle, that's what this is. Magnus will hold onto him until the guilt rocks him to his core, forcing Alec to decide a choice he doesn't want to make. And yet, Alec wears his heart on his sleeve, letting Magnus take what he needs.

Alec willingly puts all of his cards on the table, kisses him like he's his last, holds him as if he’ll turn to ash when he lets go. Perhaps that's how Magnus feels, that when he finally sees his final wing feather decay, he'll fade to nothing, a memory, a singular name amongst countless others inside Alec's head.

He doesn't know how much Alec shines a spotlight on that very name, how it practically clings to his every thought, how _good_ it feels to say it out loud and have Magnus register him as something real.

Travelling across the land, leaving his family to find something worth breathing for, he never expected to find _someone._ And _god,_ Magnus makes it _hard_ to breathe, hard to think.

The memories of last night are burned into his brain, a night he'll never live again because he shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have let his aching heart win, because Alec feels worse now with the knowledge of how being _that_ close to Magnus feels, how much they could be in love; but they'll never have it. Alec doesn't want to be a constant reminder of why he lost his wings.

Looking down, Alec kisses Magnus’ temple, taking a moment to appreciate the small, sacred slot in time where Alec doesn't have to worry about anything. He'll cherish these moments, no matter how small.

Alec has no idea when Magnus will accept him, to let him love him, but Alec has the patience to wait. Good things are worth waiting for, no matter how broken and seemingly impossible they are to fix.

He presses a little closer to Magnus’ body then, breathing him in and closing his eyes. Alec takes another deep breath and lets the exhaustion wash over him, allowing the silence to lull him to sleep.

Magnus on the other side of the bed slowly blinks his eyes open, turning his head to rest it against Alec's. He's sick of trying to fall asleep when he knows his anxiety is gonna wake him up again anyway, his thoughts wandering to the man curled up against him.

Despite how he feels towards Alec, Magnus thought love was impossible, that he could never feel it after what it did to his parents and his heart, what it's done to the countless people turned mad; _vultures._

Some people are born that way and open their eyes to complete blackness like Magnus’ father. Others turn into them, corrupted by greed and hatred, going against the goodness of their hearts, which is what happened to Magnus’ mother. He still remembers her kindness, the sweet words before she'd tuck him into bed. He can't remember what happened exactly, he was too young at that time, but one day it just stopped. When the warmth in her eyes disappeared, Magnus ran away and never looked back.

Considering his family history, he can't help but think that this path was always meant for him, that it's his destiny, of some sorts.

 _You're not one of them_ , Magnus tells himself over and over again, _you'll never be one of them_.

It's easier to believe when Alec is with him, showing him all that's bright and good in the world. But when he's alone, cruel thoughts spin in his head, making him dizzy. Magnus knows he's broken, the shadows of his past following wherever he goes, the ghosts of it haunting him at night. For centuries he believed he couldn't be saved, that loving something this broken is impossible. But Alec, sweet and beautiful Alec, looks at him and doesn’t see a hollow shell of the man he used to be. He sees something worth fighting for and something that’s worthy of love.

And if Magnus can promise one thing, it’s that he’ll do his best to see what Alec sees in him, to give back that same devotion Alec shows to him. Old habits are hard to break and Magnus knows that he's bound to fall back into them someday but right here, right now, he's trying. For Alec and for himself and maybe that's enough.

With that thought in mind, his eyes finally fall shut, the bliss of what they did providing an almost painless and dreamless sleep. A warmth that he can feel, not leaving, hugging him back.

 

* * *

  

Alec gets up later than intended, and that’s not because of him wanting to stay. He does, but the problem at hand is greater than wanting to spend all day in bed with a man he’s falling in love with.

The real reason he can’t leave? Magnus’ hands tug him back in his sleep, even if Alec moves the smallest amount, there’s no moving away.

 _“Magnus,”_ he hums, placing a hand around one of his wrists, stroking a thumb over the back of his hand, “Magnus, wake up.”

He doesn’t want to disturb him, not when his nightmares are so frequent, and it seems he hasn’t been chased by his demons this time. Alec finds himself smiling at the thought, even more so when Magnus opens his eyes, blinking, adjusting to the stream of light painting over the wall of the room.

It must be early from how saturated the light is, Alec looking up to see the vast ocean outside, the sun just reaching up beyond the horizon. At a time like this, it’s perfect to go looking for food, but Magnus is having none of it.

Magnus leans on one elbow, body not awake yet to feel the full force of pain. He cups Alec’s face, fingertips brushing the stubble that covers the edge of his jaw, watching how hazels take in the details of his face.

Alec wants to say _what are you feeling? Do you feel anything, something?_ It’s almost torture to not ask such a question, especially when Magnus leans in, their lips soft as they brush, and then he kisses him, slow and careful.

Breaking away leaves Magnus cold, but he’d hoped that kissing Alec would’ve told him answers to the same question he has; _did you feel something? What do you see in me?_

Perhaps it’s selfish to want to know, but Magnus can’t help it when he’s so lost in looking down on himself, forced to be dragged down by the weight of his past-- _literally._

Alec is the first one to break the silence, and Magnus wishes he never did.

“I should head out and see what’s going on, see if I can find anything. It’s the perfect time to do so.”

“Why?” asks Magnus, his hand falling from Alec’s face, fear quick to hold him by the throat.

“We need food, you have enough to last another day,” Alec is aware this isn’t easy for Magnus to understand. He’s surprised he’s lasted this long on merely scraps, but the last person to break Magnus’ heart must’ve been generous in how much food they brought back before leaving, “I’m living here now, too, and there’s only enough for you.”

“You should have it, stay strong.” Magnus doesn’t realise how utterly _bleak_ that sounds.

 _“Don’t,”_ Alec quickly takes his hand, folding their fingers together, not wanting Magnus to believe he’s _ever_ going to be like those people before, “Don’t say that. I’m here to make you stronger, and to do that, I need to make sure you’re fed. Yeah?”

Alec’s smile isn’t condescending, Magnus is _very_ aware he can’t go and gather food himself. As he holds his hand, Magnus looks down to how their hands are joint, taking a mental screenshot, hoping that it’s enough to help him sleep when Alec is gone. Magnus can’t stop him if he does want to leave, and he can’t blame him.

Because he’ll leave, knows he will. _They always do._

“I don’t want you to leave,” Magnus says, whispers it, hoping that Alec doesn’t hear. He’s probably annoyed of hearing it, constantly reminding Alec of how much pain he’s going through.

Not realising his head is drooping, Magnus blinks when Alec lifts his head up with his hand, looking back into slightly stern eyes, “I’m not.”

“You are,” argues Magnus.

“I’m leaving to gather food, but the difference to those _bastards_ from me, is that I’m coming back,” Alec’s tone drops an octave, but it doesn’t do anything to frighten Magnus, just confidence that maybe Alec is telling the truth.

And Alec kisses him, hand on his chin moving to Magnus’ neck, supporting his head as it leans to the side. When they draw back, Alec doesn’t stray far, thumb moving along Magnus’ bottom lip.

“I’ll always come back to you, Magnus.”

_Why? Why waste your wings for me?_

As Alec moves back, he gives Magnus a smile, letting those words sink in. They don’t get far, dissolving into the depths of whatever’s left of his soul, far from the heart that desperately needs mending, to _be_ a heart again.

The bed shifts when Alec stands up, his wings folding neatly over his back, the golden tips reaching halfway down his calves. They’re glorious, and Magnus gets lost in remembering how they felt, silky, velvet feathers that were warm to the touch.

Magnus mourns, reminded of the pain as the nerves of his wings switch back on, causing him to place his head back to the pillow.

He watches from where he lays, Alec gathering his things, putting on new clothes and checking he has everything he needs. Alec doesn’t even know how long he’ll be gone, but he doesn’t want to take any more time than needed. He’ll gather enough fruit, vegetables and meat for the next week or two, and the quicker Magnus gains back his strength, the quicker they can leave for a new home.

Maybe even a future.

Looking back, Alec parts his lips, momentarily stunned by what he sees. And god, he wants to stay, he never wants to leave.

Magnus’ arm reaches over to Alec’s on the bed, the sun broken into rectangles as they paint an almost picturesque scene in front of him, curling over decaying feathers and the body of a man blessed with the body of a deity. And Alec _swears_ he can see something in Magnus’ wings shine, almost like tiny stars in a galaxy far away.

Alec holds hope that it means what he thinks it does. He wants to make sure he’s back before those stars fade.

Not forgetting Magnus’ eyes, though. The warmth of them, deep brown, even gold hidden somewhere behind that reflects what little sun catches them, staring at Alec like he’s the only thing in his entire world. Right now, Alec _is_ the only thing, and to see him preparing to leave on a quest, leaving his heart in the cold again; it feels like he’s losing the love he’s only just started to feel.

No matter how small that love is, it’s _something,_ and it _kills_ Magnus to feel it drain away, to slip from his fingers when he thought this would be his chance; that Alec would be _his_ chance at believing in such a magic again.

Because that’s what love is, magic; to feel so connected to a person that you don’t see your future without them. They bring something to your life, from smiles to hugs when you need them most, and Magnus misses having that. In honesty, he’s forgotten that it’s part of love, to feel sadness and want comfort, to let Alec take some of the weight, to help him breathe again.

“I’ll be back quicker than you think,” Alec says, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, Magnus still hasn’t moved, lifeless as he looks at him, “And I’ll make sure to leave something out for you before I go.”

It’s sickening how quick Magnus’ mind goes to Alec leaving him a goodbye letter, looking away to the candle that’s burnt out, wax now trailing down the side of the holder, having no more tears to cry.

“Magnus?” his name brings him back to Alec, who now kneels down next to the bed, eyes bright with concern, “I promise you, I won’t leave you. I’m coming back, and I’ll keep coming back until you decide you don’t need me anymore. If I do anything else in this life, it’s to see you smile again.”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that, not when Alec takes the hand reaching out to him. Magnus wants to smile, feels his cheeks hurt from straining because he does _want_ to smile, but he can’t. It’ll hurt more if Alec is lying, to give himself happiness when it’s not going to remain.

“Alexander, why will you come back?”

_Say it, say it so I know before it’s too late._

Alec can’t, not yet, not when he’s pulled between love and denial. He wants Magnus to love him, but there’s no loving a man that doesn’t want to be loved, afraid of it.

“Because I want to believe in--,” he stutters, _almost,_ “to believe in _you.”_

_I want to believe in love, and you’re making me believe it does exist, no matter how much you push me away._

With one last smile, Alec lets go of his hand, leaving Magnus’ hand on his side of the bed again.

Magnus never thought he’d hate to see Alec leave, even _with_ his promises of coming back, but he does.

He hates to see the bronze gone from his life, hates to feel an emptiness that swallows him quicker than he can breathe. The fear of people leaving him and breaking his heart is resurfacing, no matter how hard he tries to fight against it, no matter how desperately he wants to believe Alec. He's becoming a victim of his own mind again, locked out and pushed away, frantically trying to find his way back to himself. He feels trapped, loneliness sinking into his body like poison.

Gripping the sheet, he remembers Alec saying his name yesterday night, the desperation, broken and almost _begging_ for Magnus to feel what he really wants to say. Magnus can hear it now as the air settles, the lingering ghosts of last night, Alec’s hands on his skin as he held him. It’s the only thing that keeps him warm.

 _Magnus,_ he hears, _please believe in me._

 

* * *

 

_‘you could be gone tomorrow, so let’s make the most of now,_

_even if that means holding you hurts like hell, and loving you seems far,_

_but i’ll keep going for a chance of it being real’_


	2. Lost

_"It’s hard to believe in happiness when nothing seems near,_

_that you’re so lost between right and wrong that emotions blend,_

_and they mix together, on and on until something breaks._

_sometimes, that something is an innocent heart."_

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the hours go on, Alec isn't having any luck. He's already been gone a day, and his wings are _aching,_ working twice as hard to carry a man of Alec's size through oceanic winds.

Even with the wingspan he has, Alec struggles long distance, and to search for food not plagued by vultures, he's having to venture further than he originally planned.

Throughout all of this, one thing heavily weighs on his mind; _I hope Magnus is okay, I hope he believes I'm coming back._

Every second he’s not with Magnus, he's scared that Magnus will lose hope of him returning. Of course he will, but seeing how much the area is void of any life the further he travels; there’s little hope he’ll return with _anything._ He’s caught some smaller birds, even picked a few herbs, but there’s nothing else growing, or nothing he hasn’t already picked before and hasn’t had time to grow again.

Luck seems to be on his side, as Alec soon glides over a small patch of green, seemingly untouched where a few trees still reach for the skies. There’s fruit hanging from them, valuable food they can use, more so than the meat and herbs.

He’ll have to be quick, picking what he can. Birds are always vulnerable on the ground.

Upon landing, hands to the floor to catch his rather fast descent, Alec shuffles quickly towards the trees, already opening his bag to place the fruit inside. Perhaps he’ll eat one on the way back, giving him some strength because the winds don’t seem to be dying down anytime soon.

There’s an abundance of apples, and Alec reaches for each one, placing them carefully inside the bag he wears. He can’t throw them in because bruising them won’t help them last, but he needs to be quick in territory he hasn’t scouted before landing.

His wings are stretched out, poised and ready to take off in a moments notice, but they aren’t going to warn him of anything sneaking up. Alec needs to be wary of everything, emotions clawing at his throat because he’s worried about Magnus.

If anything, his thoughts are completely about Magnus, how he’ll probably despise him for leaving, how _Magnus_ might be gone when he returns. Alec could be too late, a vulture already having reached him, ripping his wings clean from his already bruised shoulder blades.

Seeing that image inside his mind, Magnus falling to his knees in pain; it sends a cold shiver down his spine, twists his ribs and makes his knees numb. Magnus doesn’t deserve any of this, he’s not a man with ill thoughts, only ill heartbreaks that aren’t fault of his own.

Alec is distracted, each apple falling into his bag quicker than the last as Magnus blinds his senses. He’s unaware of the danger lurking behind, the hiss between elongated teeth, reaching fingers with nails hardened into claws--

Turning to reach for another apple, Alec sees the black void of a vulture’s wing, and by then, they’re already reaching for him, _swinging_ for Alec with all the hatred they can squeeze into one attack.

Their nails connect with Alec’s stomach, and Alec grunts as they cut deep, stumbling back, dropping the apple he reached for.

Seeing one up close, their white eyes, boiled skin and the stench that makes Alec _heave--_ Alec needs to leave now, because a quick look to his right proves frightening _._

 _“Shit--”_ cursing between clenched teeth, Alec stumbles back, almost falling but a quick shift of one of his wings helps center his balance, running as far as he can until his wings start to work again.

They’ve gone numb from the fear, and thankfully, the vulture’s claws didn’t cut deep enough to do damage, even though the first command of his wings makes him _wheeze,_ feeling the strain and pull on his skin. His wings lift him into the air, narrowly avoiding another vulture that’s stalked him from the side while he was picking the apples, and once he’s in the safety of the air, Alec turns to look at them.

Alec closes his bag so the food he’s gathered doesn’t fall out, and he’s left grasping for his shirt, already feeling the warmth of his blood that now soaks the fabric. It’s a larger wound than he thought, but not threatening. He’ll need to clean it when he gets back, to cover it up so it doesn’t get infected.

Unfortunately though, it _will_ slow him down, stinging, but the will to get back to Magnus and see if he’s okay pushes him far beyond his limits.

Alec decides to fly near the waves, feeling the cold splash as they battle with the cliff edge, the cold of the wind numbing the gash along his ribs and down to his lower abdomen. If he uses the strong winds here, it’ll be easier and quicker for Alec to get back to Magnus, and he knows that even if his wings hurt now, there’s no stopping, no camping the night to make sure he returns safely.

Every second is another feather that could fall from Magnus’ wings, and Alec doesn’t want that anymore, doesn’t want Magnus to be haunted by heartbreak he has no control over.

 

* * *

 

Magnus hears him before he sees him.

The powerful pull of wings against the wind, the heavy breathing, the _thump_ as Alec hits the balcony harder than he should. Magnus doesn’t know if it _is_ Alec, but there’s this deep hope inside of him that for a change, Magnus wants to be right, wants to _believe._

Walking out of his room, robe following behind him, Magnus feels his throat constrict at the sight of Alec. The deep red colour that stains Alec’s shirt makes Magnus take more steps forward than his heart would allow, rushing to be there for him.

But he stops a few steps away, hands hovering in front of him slowly closing to fists. Alec can’t see Magnus’ inner struggle, hand against his chest, looking to the floor as he allows his wings to fall from their own weight, utterly _exhausted._ The ache is present from the root of his spine to the headache pounding his thoughts.

Alec can hear him, feel his presence and how his eyes burn themselves into him, but he chooses to say nothing. He doesn’t know if he can, his lungs having spent every last drop to carry him back home.

Maybe home isn’t the right word, but it’s the one Alec thought of when he saw the damaged apartment building in the distance. In that moment, reaching for the balcony with the last remaining spots of life in his wings, he thought _finally, I’m home. I’m home with him, with Magnus._

Now, crouching here, he regrets thinking it.

Magnus won’t step any closer, and Alec dares him too, waits to see if he will, but Magnus ends up walking back inside, arms crossed with conflict on his face that Alec can’t see. But, he can feel it, almost, the tension that pulls itself tight like a string.

With a deep breath, Alec pushes himself up, shoulder blades crying out from Alec wanting to carry his wings higher, but they fall on their own accord, dragging along the floor as he walks back inside the apartment. The cold of the ocean isn’t so bruising in here, and being with Magnus again, it brings him a warmth there’s no possible explanation for.

Still, Magnus keeps his distance, trying to make himself look busy. Alec hates it.

He has to bite his tongue, wanting to say something a little on the joke side of things, but Alec doesn’t want to make their relationship break when it’s already so fragile, hanging on by false hope and strict denial.

Unfortunately, Magnus speaks first, and Alec wishes he never listened to himself about keeping quiet.

“Couldn’t find anyone to lick your wounds for you?” Magnus pauses what he’s doing, fiddling with glasses that clink as he places them down, almost as if he regrets saying it as soon as he speaks it.

Alec shakes his head, not believing what he’s saying. “What?”

“Well, that blood on your shirt isn’t from juice, is it?” He turns around, avoiding eye contact, but Magnus _does_ look at Alec and the way the exhausted man clutches at his shirt in pain.

“No, I got caught,” swallowing, Alec looks at him, waits for the moment their eyes lock-- but it never happens, “It was my own fault.”

Magnus huffs, rolling his eyes. They're a little glassy and Alec bites his lips so he doesn't ask what's wrong because deep down, he already knows the answer.

"What are you doing here, Alec?" Magnus then asks, and Alec's worries are confirmed.

His stomach drops and he can’t help but feel that someone has done this before, leaving to get food and then deciding that’s healthy enough for their conscious to just permanently say goodbye. Alec isn’t going to be that person, and Magnus doesn’t know that yet even if he tries his damn hardest to believe in something like that.

Still, it doesn’t stop Alec from being a _little_ angry.

“I went to get _food,_ Magnus,” Alec places the bag down on the table with more force than he needs to, face stern as he doesn’t look away from Magnus, “and I came back like I told you I would. I'm _not_ leaving you.”

“But you _did,”_ he turns his attention to the bag, noticing the small numbers of fruit, meat and herbs that he’s managed to find, “and trying to prove it so I blindly walk back into your arms is a rather valiant effort, but I’m not falling for it.”

Alec parts his lips, going to say something, but he drops it.

“Fine, believe what you want.” Leaving his bag on the table, Alec walks away, heading to the cabinets where he searches for something.

Magnus decides not to continue the argument, the various bangs of the cabinets breaking him free of the small little whirlwind he’s placed himself in. Alec eventually just slams one shut, his wings still dragging across the floor as he leans onto the side, wiping a hand down his face like he wants to rip away the sadness he feels morphing his face.

The silence that swallows the room makes it hard to believe they’ll find a way out of this constant loop, but Alec honestly can’t see why he should. It’s obvious, what they feel, but making it happen is what’s tearing them apart.

Magnus doubts what he’s feeling is love, and Alec refuses to believe Magnus is beyond saving.

This love they feel is poisoning them, but they only feel it this way because they refuse to see the good behind it, the warmth and future they’ve managed to find in the hold of their hands, the wonder in their eyes. It’s constantly pushing them apart and pulling them back, ill with a fever they feel is bad for them, but it’s just consuming them in a way they’re not used to.

Magnus doesn’t want to feel the side effects he knows will undoubtedly kill him, and Alec can’t name why he feels so sad, so utterly devastated that Magnus won’t feel the same way Alec does for Magnus. But Magnus does feel love, a very small amount of it, but just as he’s about to accept it, the haunting demons of his past in the form of wings drag him back down again.

Slamming his fist against the marble of the kitchen surface, Alec clenches his jaw. He’d rather take out his anger with an inanimate object than through words to Magnus. He knows it’s not his fault, because Alec _did_ leave, but not in the way Magnus thought he would.

Perhaps he doesn’t know another way, fears always proven right, never seeing these people again once they _do_ leave, and perhaps Alec is the first to stay.

And he is.

Magnus finds it difficult to fathom that, to understand why out of everyone, Alec chooses to stay and bare with the punches Magnus throws without knowing. They’re both hurting, both in _love_ beyond what they can physically and mentally understand, but they’re trying.

They’re trying in their own hurtful, lost way. Alec hopes that one day, they won’t be as lost, that they’ll find a way back no matter how many feathers it pulls from his own glorious wings.

Right now, Alec is struggling. He's tearing at the bandage he's just found in the cupboard, trying to unfold it with one hand. The other is still resting against his side, applying pressure on his wound. He takes a quick look, pulling his shirt up and taking away his hand. They come back stained a dark red. He flinches at the sight, squeezing his eyes shut when he hears Magnus wince. He focuses back on the bandage, colouring them red as he dabs them against his wound, grunting.

“Oh stop it!”

Magnus is suddenly in his space, stilling Alec's shaking fingers at his sides. He looks up at Alec for a second, frowning, before he takes his hands away. “I don’t need help.”

“Sit down,” he says, levelling him with a stare that says _don't argue with me._ “And take off your shirt.”

“I said I didn't need any help.” Alec mumbles, grunting when Magnus takes the bandage from him, debating whether to argue further, but he slowly peels off his shirt. He clutches it in his hands, looking down at the huge cut in it. The light grey colour unrecognizable.

“Clearly,” Magnus snaps back, pushing Alec to sit down on the chair, “You've never done this before, I'm guessing? Always had someone to do it for you?”

“No, I know how to do--,” Alec gestures to his wound, “I'm just-- my mind is occupied with other things right now. It's a scratch.” Alec tries to keep his head turned away, but he can't help himself from looking, Magnus’ face knitted in concentration.

Is it reaching to say Magnus looks-- _worried?_

“Just a scratch can turn into a nasty infection,” now he's looking at Alec, challenging him to look away first, and Alec does, “There's no point playing the hero if you have to tap out early.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I'm not trying to be any sort of hero.”

“Humour me.” Magnus places the bandage aside, moving to collect water and a cloth to clean the wound. “Everyone else has, everyone taps out.”

Sitting there, looking at the empty apartment, Alec wonders how many souls have lived here, taken Magnus’ heart just to throw it away.

It makes Alec angry, it makes him mourn for the years Magnus hasn't lived.

“I'm not them,” Alec's words have Magnus pause, the sound of glass and footsteps stopping, “I promised that to you.”

Magnus takes a deep breath, his heart contracting painfully. He really wants to believe Alec, to believe he's not like every other lover he's had, to believe that Alec's not going to break his heart. But how can he? How can he let go of years of heartbreak and loneliness?

It’s just not that easy.

“Men can break promises, Alexander,” he decides on saying, his voice soft.

“You haven't.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at you, Magnus. Your wings are broken but they're not gone. Your heart is still pure, you keep true to yourself even when everything else seems pointless, even when it seems like the world _hates_ you,” he places his hand over Magnus’ on his wound, “Being true to yourself is a promise only you can keep, you're stronger than you think.”

Magnus is reminded of his wings then, of the times he would fly to the mountains, climbing higher and higher without getting tired, wings sparkling in the sunshine. He doesn't have happier moments than those. His wings used to be his pride, something that gave him purpose in this world and without them, he feels as if he doesn't belong. Alec helps him value his worth, wings or not, but looking at Alec's gorgeous wings right now, having felt the strength of them; it makes him feel empty. How can he explain that to Alec without making him feel guilty?

The muscles in his back tense but Magnus’ wings stay immobile, only the dull ache and heavy weight a reminder of what he once had.

“Not strong enough, it seems,” Magnus could smile, but it'd be weak, a mockery of a real one. How can he be true to himself if he doesn't even know who he is anymore?

Alec bites his tongue, his jaw working behind clenched teeth.

Magnus regards him carefully, the stiff posture, the twitch in his fingertips, and wonders if he ever broke a promise. He can't imagine he has, Alec doesn't seem to be the kind of person who takes promises lightly. Alec's tough and stubborn, but he's also soft and warm, willing to go above and beyond for someone he barely knows. He wants to save those who don't want to be saved, who _cannot_ be saved but he tries, adamantly. Magnus has always admired that about him and no matter the small amount of time they’ve spent together, he knows what kind of person Alec is.

“So does that mean you haven't, either?” Magnus looks to Alec's wings, resting along the floor, Alec not having the strength to fold them neatly against his back. “Broken a promise?”

“No,” his throat sounds dry, “and I don't intend to.”

For a second Magnus thinks he's lying but he decides not to push it, so he simply nods, standing up.

“I need more water,” he announces tightly, brushing over his shirt as if to smooth out the wrinkles and exists the room.

As soon as Magnus is out of his sight, Alec takes a deep, shuddering breath, clenching his hands into fists and flinching at the sharp pain that shoots down his side. But he welcomes the pain, it helps him focus. There's a bright smile appearing in front of his eyes, a flash of dark brown curls and the ghost of a touch grazing his shoulder. He doesn't need clear faces to know who those images and feelings belong to; _his siblings_. They’re no more than broken memories but Alec knows he can never truly forget them, even after all these years apart and despite the shame he feels whenever he allows himself to think about them. Ever since he left that day he didn't feel like he deserved to think about them, didn't deserve the warmth that spreads in his chest with each thought. There's always been times where he wanted to tell Jace about the new heights he’s reached, read to Max from the books he’s purchased, to show Isabelle a new recipe he’s tried.

They're with him every step of the way but the guilt never fades, common nightmares reminding him of his mistakes, of his broken promises.

 

_“I'll always protect you, Max.”_

_“Do you promise?”_

_“I promise!”_

 

_“Alec, please don't shut us out.”_

_“I can't do this anymore…”_

_“We need you.”_

 

He was weak. He couldn't save his little brother and instead turned into one of the monsters Alec swore Max he'd protect him from. He disappointed his other siblings by leaving, crumbling under the constant hatred from his parents.

He didn't just break one promise, he broke three, and that's something he'll never forgive himself for.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus comes back a few minutes later, a new bowl of water in one hand and a fresh bandage in the other. He comes to a halt in front of Alec, places the water on the living room table and unfolds the bandage silently.

He tends to Alec's wound carefully, cleaning the surrounding area of dried blood and Alec wants to say something, anything to fill this dense silence but his throat is tight around the words.

He's stuck in his own thoughts and it's not until Magnus calls out his name that he raises his gaze.

“Alexander?” Magnus asks again, frowning at the look Alec gives him, eyes sweeping over his face in concentration.

“Why do you keep saying my name?” Alec blurts out, taken aback by the harshness of his tone. He snaps his mouth close, swallowing.

“I-- don't think I understand. I just wanted to let you know that I'm done cleaning your wound--”

 _“No,”_ Alec interrupts. Magnus raises his eyebrows, not knowing where the sudden frustration in Alec comes from.

“No,” Alec says, softer now, “I meant my full name. _Alexander,”_ he watches how Magnus’ stance tenses, “You keep saying it.”

“Oh.” Magnus turns away, reaching for the dirty clothes to busy himself. “That's your name, isn't it?” He asks, feigning nonchalance.

“Well, yeah,” Alec places his hands together, leaning forward but not without regret as his wound stings, sitting back again and resorting to twiddling his thumbs, “It'd just be easier to call me Alec.”

Magnus stops his movements, glancing over his shoulder at Alec, finding him already looking back at him. They stare at each other for a moment before Alec breaks away, focusing on his hands once more.

“I suppose so,” Magnus says then, clearing his throat. “But like many things concerning you… I don't understand why I do, but know that I rather like calling you Alexander. It's a nice name.” He pauses, clearing his throat and waiting for Alec to raise his gaze before he continues. “In Greek it means 'Defender of men’. It's rather fitting, don't you think?”

Alec snorts, rolling his eyes, but he sees the small twitch in Magnus’ cheeks and finds himself hiding his own smile.

Magnus gathers the rest of the supplies before fully turning back to Alec.

“You should sleep,” he says, serious, but Alec can still see the faintest hints of a smile on his lips. “You need to rest.”

Alec sighs but Magnus is right, he's exhausted, his limbs heavy and sore, so he simply nods. He reaches out with a hand, his fingers finding the bottom of Magnus’ robe to keep him from turning away.

“Thank you Magnus,” he whispers, looking up at him. Magnus gives him a small nod and then he's gone, disappearing into the hallway.

He really hoped that he would’ve seen that smile, the small break in tension where they can both believe that they’re happy. But alas, it never greets him, but at least Magnus is on his way to smiling again one day.

Alec waits until he hears the door close before he rises from the chair, standing on weak legs. He slowly makes his way to the bedroom, falling onto the bed clumsily. His eyes close before he even hits the pillow but he's not asleep yet. He waits for Magnus to come back, to lie down next to him, but he never does. Alec falls into a fitful sleep, exhaustion taking over and one hand reaching out to rest across Magnus’ side of the bed.

It's as empty as he feels inside.

 

* * *

 

Alec wakes up around noon, groggily wiping his eyes. He moves into a sitting position, grabbing his side in attempt to ease the pain that flares there. He grits his teeth, glancing over to the other side of the bed. It's the same way as before which means Magnus never joined him.

Alec swallows down the hurt he's feeling at that realisation, pushing himself off the bed to take a much needed shower.

He takes his time, mindful of the bandaged wound on his right side. He desperately tries to keep his mind from wandering but last night's conversation is still vivid, his heart screaming out for the one he loves, the primal need to protect him almost overwhelming.

There's a fresh bandage on the bed, along with a small tube that contains a thick, white cream when Alec taps back into the bedroom, and he can't help the small smile that spreads on his face.

 _Magnus_.

He doesn't want to show it, fears it way too much, but he cares about Alec and knowing that is enough for Alec to keep going.

Alec makes quick work of taking care of his wound, slipping into a pair of comfortable pants and a baggy white shirt so he doesn't put too much pressure on the cut.

He takes a deep breath, his hand hovering above the door handle, knowing well enough how Magnus is going to react to what he's going to say. Alec dreads it but keeping Magnus safe is still his top priority. There's no other choice to be made here

Squaring his shoulders, he opens the door, walking into the living room.

“We need to leave,” announces Alec, deciding to just say it as it is, seeing no sense in trying to word it nicely so it doesn’t frighten Magnus.  

Magnus looks over his shoulder, confusion written over his face, talking without speaking; _what?_

Alec makes his way over to Magnus, sure and steady, taking a deep breath as his admiration for the man in front of him catches up with his heart. He’s left a little unsteady at how soft Magnus looks, but the rapid confusion stringing between them makes Alec realise he hasn’t quite explained himself.

Gesturing to the wall that signals north, Alec continues, “The vultures, they’re migrating south and we’re in their way. I saw a horde of them heading our way a few miles out when I went to fetch supplies.”

Nothing.

Magnus’ face reflects nothing, and Alec suddenly feels cold. Magnus being confused is better than just-- _nothing._

“Magnus, do you understand?” Alec speaks again, more softly this time, swallowing because his mouth suddenly feels dry.

He turns away from Alec, cutting more of the apple he’s been slicing. He woke up from a nightmare early this morning and he's been restless since _._ He couldn't stop thinking about Alec, torn between wanting to believe him and wanting to push him away. It’s becoming a habit that he _accepts_ Alec leaving, but every single time, no matter how long it’s taken, Alec has come back. Magnus doesn't know how to feel about that.

But the news of the vultures closing in, slicing what little bubble of a dream he felt he was starting to live, it confirms what Magnus has felt inside all this time. Fate, its wicked hands and puppet strings, they’re finally catching up with him and tying strings around his feet to lift him up, helpless and without control.

Alec is here, though, and somehow he wishes it’d numb the pain of the harsh reality coming for him, but it doesn’t. Even Alec looks pained, torn with what they'll inevitably have to face in the form of long claws and lost souls. Magnus feels like one, so it’s only a matter of time until he joins them.

“Hey,” he stutters, biting his lip, but Alec reaches out, taking his hand, “There’s no need to be scared about this--”

Magnus snatches his hand away, “Who said I was _scared?”_

Alec’s parted lips speak silence until he finds _something_ to keep the conversation going.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how, Alec? Do you not think I’ve been dealing with this future ever since I lost my wings? That they’d catch up to me and finish the job my heart can’t seem to do itself?” Magnus takes a step forward, prodding his chest, “And not even _you,_ my _knight in shining armour_ can save me from that fate. I say let them, because I’d rather not feel anything at all than feel what I feel right now.”

Alec takes that leap, sees it and can’t hold back, “What _do_ you feel?”

Magnus knows his words slipped through the anger that barked more than it could bite, but Alec feels it wound him all the same, and Magnus feels it returned because he can’t answer Alec’s question.

He can, he just doesn’t want to.

Alec pinches his nose, folding his arms across his chest and breathing out heavily as he watches Magnus avert his eyes. He knows he's not going to get an answer and it leaves him frustrated, anger bubbling to the surface and he tries to push it back down, taking a couple of deep breaths before he speaks again.

“What do you expect me to do? _Leave_ you here? Leave you like everyone else has?”

“Why not? You’ll be following protocol, I guess. Be a good little guardian and go help someone that needs saving, not someone who _can’t.”_ Turning away, Magnus can’t bare to watch Alec see his face morph to one of sadness, his eyes burning with the will not to cry.

He’s taking his anger, his fear and all of his doubts and trying to make them weigh less on his own soul by directing them towards Alec. Magnus doesn’t mean any of it, but it falls from his lips like poison, and Alec keeps drinking like one of these times it’s going to be the antidote.

And somewhere inside, Alec knows he doesn’t mean it, that what anger he’s projecting towards him is a result of how wounded and broken his heart is.

The silence that follows, it breaks Alec even more.

“Magnus,” he takes those few steps forward, his feet quiet against the wood of the floor, “please, let me help you.”

“I don’t understand you, Alec,” Magnus turns to him, eyes burning into Alec, “Why are you so insistent on saving me? Don’t you see you’re wasting your life? Don’t you have your _code_ to follow?”

Alec turns his nose up at that, almost hissing as he speaks, teeth tight, “Don’t bring that into this, Magnus.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

He’s very close to just turning away, to leave Magnus to calm down and repeat his own words back so that he realises how much he’s hurting his own will to get better. At this point, Alec’s not even sure if he has one, decayed along with his wings.

Alec knows to lose his wings in such a way, his will to see light in a world of darkness must have dwindled, so much so that there’s no possible way out. But his wings aren’t black, so he’s not beyond saving, not beyond a second chance at seeing the light of love again.

“Maybe you are,” so Alec keeps fighting, “But this is my decision to be here, to save you. Whatever code you think I follow, I can say with honesty that this isn’t part of it. We’re not meant to be--” Alec wildly gestures between them, the lock on his heart stopping the words from speaking out.

“Be _what?”_

Biting his tongue, Alec closes his eyes, hands in midair before folding his arms across his chest. He looks away, frustration evident on his features.

Magnus huffs, rolling his eyes. “You're a fool to risk your life for someone who's beyond saving.” Magnus regards him silently for a moment, recognising the tension in his jaw as anger.

“Why Alec?” He presses on, leveling Alec with a cold stare. “Why do you bother so much? Why would you rather stay here than start a new life with someone else? Someone better? Why not go back to your family, huh?” Magnus knows he’s hit a nerve when Alec flinches at the mention of his family, body strung impossibly tighter.

“You don't have anyone to go back to so you stay with me? Am I the lesser evil?” Magnus doesn't know why he’s saying these things, why he's so cruel, but something stirs in his gut. It's violent and angry and it makes Magnus shiver but he can't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. The need to hurt Alec the way he's hurting is primal, instinctive, and Magnus hates it. He doesn't even recognize himself, the darkness closing in on his heart leaving Magnus terrified.

Alec balls his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “Stop,” he murmurs between clenched teeth but Magnus doesn't seem to hear him.

“Or do you have a death wish? Is that it?”

 _“No!”_ He blurts out, eyes turning to find Magnus’ furious ones, staring at him disbelievingly.

Magnus throws his hands up in desperation, voice growing louder, “Then why are you doing this?”

 _“Because I love you!”_ Alec yells back at him, a defeated expression on his face, eyebrows drawn together in exasperation.

Magnus mouth falls open, staring at Alec with wide eyes and there's only one thought that comes to his mind.

_“What?"_

“God, you're so infuriating, you know that?”

Magnus blinks, unaware he voiced that thought out loud.

“I love you, Magnus Bane. I am _in love_ with you. Can’t you see that?"

No, Magnus thinks, it can't be. But in a way he's been hungry for it, knows he's been silently hoping for Alec to say it, but there's no way in heaven or hell that he's ready to hear it. His stomach drops and he feels utterly lost.

Alec sighs and the tension bleeds from his body, making him slouch. If he's being honest, he's really tired of fighting.

“I know you don't believe in that anymore, that you don't feel as if it exists, but please, Magnus -- don't… don't say _I_ can't love.”

Magnus opens and closes his mouth, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Alec takes another step closer, but Magnus turns around, crossing his arms in front of his chest, breathing with difficulty.

“You understand now? Why I can't leave you here?” His eyes sweep over Magnus’ frame, begging him to do something, say something, _anything_ \-- but Magnus stays motionless. “Please don't ask me to leave you here, Magnus. Just... let me do this one thing, okay?”

Alec’s arms hold him from behind, reaching around his waist, stepping closer and leaning his forehead against the back of Magnus’ head. He closes his eyes, pictures of his family slipping into his mind and making his heart stutter in his chest. “I _can't--_ I--,” he fumbles for the right words, overcome by emotion.

“Don't make me lose you too.”

 _I already lost my family, half of my soul. I can't lose half of my heart as well_.

A lonely tear falls from his eye and he breathes Magnus in, heart beating a little easier as the contact soothes the pain that’s been spreading like fungus, mould that sticks his feathers together slowly fading like it never existed in the first place.

And he whispers, quiet, almost as if Alec speaks directly into Magnus’ thoughts, _“Please.”_

That simple touch, held by arms he wants to call home, Magnus allows himself to feel. He leans back into Alec, breathing out a sigh that’s far from his own control. His chest is warm against his bruised back, and Magnus just wants to stay like this, to sink into the countless hours they’ll bleed into from their love.

He can’t be angry at Alec, can’t deny that he’s struggling to find a way to say no. Magnus can’t remember the last time he’s been with someone this long, wanting to feel the highs and lows that come with undenying love.

But even as Alec’s breath rolls down the back of his neck, his hands on his stomach, there’s a twitch inside Magnus’ soul that wants _more._ If there’s too much of one emotion, then it’ll block out the other; because that’s how it works, _right?_

Magnus can fake falling in love, hoping it’ll be real, but Alec’s lips on his neck _are_ real, kissing him softly like every single one could be bad for him.

He keeps hearing Alec's words in his head, soft declarations of love that aren’t explicitly spoken as one and Magnus’ skin catches fire, fight or flight kicking in as he breaks from Alec’s arms. He can't do this.  

Alec is left with his arms in the air, bringing them down slowly as he realises he’s leaped without anywhere to land. His eyes stay closed, and his jaw clenches, almost self punishment for letting such strong words slip from his lips.

Magnus can’t look at him, trying to drown out the words Alec spoke, twisted into white noise that his heart struggles to understand.

There’s no room for words like that anymore, neither in his heart or his life. Alec knew that in some horrid, cold way, but now he knows for certain that one single word can turn water boiling, sand too hot to touch, turn the skies red--

Love is hell for him now, not heaven. Magnus can’t feel love if heaven is out of his reach.

“I’m not leaving,” he adjusts his robe, tightening it around himself, the feeling that was brewing in his gut fading out, “And that’s final.”

Alec opens his eyes, looking to the floor as Magnus walks away.

He’ll be damned if he leaves Magnus here to meet whatever fate the vultures choir for him. There’s no need for him to suffer such an end when his wings haven’t taken the next step, because something inside him is _holding on;_ and that’s enough for Alec to keep trying.

Raising his head, Alec catches a few seconds of Magnus as he walks to his bedroom door, pausing as he holds it open. For a moment, he looks over his shoulder, back to Alec, the weight of his stare bringing Alec to his knees.

_Did you mean it?_

Alec wants to scream _yes, all of it;_ but he doesn’t. He stands there, locked in this gaze where every motor in his body churns to move forward, to reach for Magnus and never let go.

“There’s no use loving me, Alexander,” Magnus speaks, quiet, speaking Alec’s full name like that’ll somehow make him listen more, to understand, “My hourglass has already started ticking, but yours hasn’t even turned. So please, do me a favour?”

Alec would reply, but his throat is dry. Magnus takes his silence as an open invitation to say what favour he’s asking for.

“Find someone else. Find another love that isn’t mine.”

Alec parts his lips, about to say that he’s already too far gone to find another, but Magnus’ eyes are already welling up. He’s breaking, admitting that his love will never be enough for Alec, that no matter how hard Alec tries to fix him, his ghosts haunt him too frequently.

But even then, Alec’s flutter of hope fades out, clipped like a butterfly's wing as he hears the click of the door.

There’s no such thing as love, at least not for them.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Avoiding him hurts like hell, and he has no idea _why_ it hurts so much. Magnus has already concluded that Alec will stay until the vultures come, that he’ll be all smiles and apologetic hugs trying to fix things and then run. It’ll be easier on his guilty conscious that way, won’t it?

He’s turned to sleeping on the couch, still leaving Magnus a plate of food if Alec wakes up before him. It’s even difficult to look at him, feeling this all consuming weight pressing down on his chest every time he does. Alec wants to say something, he just doesn’t know when to say it.

Some days, he’ll leave in the morning and come back a few hours later, and every second he’s gone, Magnus can physically feel it drown his lungs. It’s almost as if he’s telling himself it’ll be too late to say he wants Alec when he’s already gone-- but he _does_ come back, and every single time, Magnus checks for wounds, checks if he’s okay from a safe distance.

It’s a safe distance because Magnus is so _sad,_ so torn between wanting to protect himself and falling into Alec’s arms again. Seeing Alec still in the apartment the next morning, even after what he said, Magnus found himself at a loss, not sure what to do with himself as he stood there, rubbing his thumb into his palm.

With Alec still here, the emotions and wishes he’s tried so hard to numb overnight are back again, and Magnus doesn’t know if to be thankful or hate it. One thing he does know, is that he misses Alec’s hugs, his kisses, the way his hands hold him like nothing will ever harm Magnus ever again.

He wants to feel that again, but he can’t risk it. Magnus’ fears, his past, his ill hopes and dreams he no longer has; he doesn’t want to pass them onto Alec.

Alec is struggling, too.

Every day he leaves to check the area around Magnus’ apartment, he sees more decay, more signs of vultures narrowly missing them when they sleep because of the lights. Even the clouds refuse to part, a storm brewing on the horizon that the sun wants no part of.

Alec misses the warmth of the sun, the fuel it gives him when he spreads his wings; but that’s gone now. The only warmth he feels is when he’s around Magnus, and now that he refuses to get close, another star is gone from his life, too.

He’s training himself, getting stronger by forcing his wings to work overtime when he _does_ go outside. Alec will fly up until his wings feel cold, until his lungs can’t find air, and then he’ll fall and force his wings to catch him.

Some afternoons, he’ll arrive back, and Magnus is waiting for him, leaning against the balcony door, watching him land. They’ll exchange glances, and Magnus feels a twang inside his heart when Alec struggles to fold his wings, cramps and strain from overworking them heavy for a few hours until he’s ready to go again.

Magnus always wants to ask him why he’s doing this, why he refuses to give up when Magnus himself already sees no way out. Perhaps the vultures will just ignore him, that they’ll see him as broken as they are. Maybe they’ll even finish the job of what his stubborn wings fail to do; turn black.

Alec will find heavy objects to lift, building himself up. Magnus is no feather himself, built and almost the same height as Alec, so if he has any chance of helping Magnus out of here, he needs to go through a little pain to gain.

One night, Alec drops the heavy object he’s lifting, turning around to lean against the kitchen side. He’s really feeling it, forcing his body to be stronger in such a short time, and to say _that_ is guessing in itself. There’s _no_ time, not when Alec can’t actively watch whatever’s going on outside. Sitting and waiting for them to come isn’t going to prepare them.

And on that same night, Magnus exits his study, walks over to Alec and places a glass of water down next to his hand.

Alec holds his breath for a moment, looking up to Magnus just as he’s turning away. He doesn’t know what to take from such a gesture, but maybe Magnus acknowledges what he’s doing, that he knows Alec is stubborn and that he won’t back down.

Taking the glass, it’s cold, easing the blisters he has on his hands from heavy landings.

Magnus wants to be there for him, he’s trying.

And for Alec, that’s enough, for now.

 

* * *

Nights are usually quiet, the occasional whisper of the wind folding through the apartment from the aged roof and broken windows. Tonight, though, the gods are angry, a storm roaring through the land, rain heavy and wind choking.

Alec can’t sleep, and neither can Magnus.

There hasn’t been a storm like this in months, and being right near the ocean, the wind is _bitterly_ cold, if not colder than normal, and Alec shivers under the blanket of his wings. It’s only then, blanketed under his own, does Alec remember about someone else’s.

_Magnus._

Opening his eyes, he’s not left more than a few seconds of peace as shadows of sharp feathers paint themselves on the walls.

_Oh no, no, no no no no--_

Gasping as he jumps to his feet, Alec forgets his wings dragging behind him, the white tips bringing dirt with them as Alec dashes to his room. Grabbing the bag of food on the way, Alec knows this is it, that they’re leaving whether Magnus is ready or not. He eventually folds his wings neatly against his back, but they’re ready to spring open, tension locked taut.

Halfway there, he hears a voice, mumbling, almost _crying--_ and Alec picks up speed, his lungs reaching out for more air as he forces his legs to _run._

_Why does this hallway feel longer? Why does it feel like I’m not moving?_

It’s fear, the unknown of what he’ll see when he opens the door to Magnus’ bedroom. He hesitates as Alec’s hand grip the knob, a split second doubt that Magnus would want him to knock, that he might not even want to see him right now.

But there’s a screech, one that rattles Alec’s bones hollow, and he’s barging the door open before his mind can catch up to the decisions of his heart--

Vultures, trying to find refuge from the storm are clawing at the balcony windows, elbowing the glass to try and break through.

Magnus is on his bed, the weight of his broken and bruised wings making it hard to push himself up, the bruises along his spine too much, the adrenaline not even numbing him.

Alec rushes to his side, hand reaching to cup his face to see if he’s alright, but as quickly as he feels the warmth of his skin, Alec pulls back. They’re still fragile from their argument, and Alec’s confession refuses to sink in no matter what, but that’s not going to stop Alec from _trying._

“Magnus,” he says, voice panicked, “Quick, we need to leave.”

“I can’t,” Magnus speaks into the pillow, shoulders slumped, his eyes hollow of emotion as if he’s finally seeing the last grains of sand fall to the bottom of his hourglass.

Gritting his teeth, Alec rolls his sleeves up, spreading his wings out slightly so they start to wake up, “You _can._ All you need is a little boost. _”_

 _“Alexander,”_ he reaches out for Alec’s shirt, caught between denial and acceptance. The fear in his voice shows that he doesn’t want to turn, to face the vultures he can _hear_ banging on his window, “I can’t let you carry me. I’ll-- I’m not worth your strength.”

“This time, Magnus, I’m not going to listen to you.”

Alec starts to move, slowly maneuvering Magnus’ wing to pair them together on one side of the bed. From there, Magnus lays on his side, eyes never leaving Alec as he watches the guardian treat him with so much care, even when glass shatters behind them, a few of the shards falling into his decaying wings.

“Please, there’s no time,” argues Magnus, but there’s no power in his words to stop Alec, not when he’s lifting him into his arms, holding him close to his chest as his wings fall down.

It hurts, his spine pulsing with the pressure on his bruises, but Alec somehow numbs it. His touch heals him mentally, the way Alec looks down at him, surveys his face and back to his eyes again as he walks backwards, into the main room of the apartment again.

Placing a hand on his chest, Magnus wants to hit him, to tell him to let go so Alec can fly further away, to forget him and move on but Magnus’ heart is trying its best to feel something again. In Alec’s arms, he doesn’t feel a shred of weakness, because this is Alec helping him, not because he’s incapable of flying out of here on his own, but because Alec _chooses_ to help him.

It’s out of the kindness of his own heart. A heart Magnus wants to love but struggles to understand _why._

“Hold on,” is all Alec says before Magnus’ body moves on its own accord. His will to survive another day makes him arms move, hugging around Alec’s neck with as much strength as his arms can muster.

Magnus can’t see what’s happening, eyes closed as Alec runs through the apartment, trying not to trip on Magnus’ trailing wings, hoping he can find an exit that’s not accompanied by vultures. The balcony is now home to a few, and Alec turns back around to run to the other spare bedroom, knowing that Magnus never wanted him to use it because one of the walls is completely broken.

So he shoulders the door open, guiding his own wings and Magnus’ body through, his wingspan reaching out as far as it can in the confines of the room.

Alec holds him tighter now, and Magnus knows what’s coming.

He hears the sound he’s witnessed from Alec’s wings, but never felt. Alec grunts, his wings working twice as hard to lift him off the ground, but he does it effortlessly after the first few failed attempts. Magnus hugs into Alec’s guardian hold, bristling against the cold wind of the storm, his wing feathers not registering the feeling of the wind they’ve missed so much.

“I’m not leaving you to die,” Alec says, kissing Magnus’ temple as they reach higher, higher until his wings break through the storm, above the clouds to where the wind grows silent.

And now, it’s just them, the sky and boundless stars.

Magnus opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is the tops of clouds, lighting flashing and illuminating the various bumps and curves of every cloud.

His heart sinks and sings at the same time.

He never thought he’d see this view again, and Magnus is suspended in time, forgetting Alec and the fact that he’s not _truly_ flying. Magnus doesn’t even have control over his lungs, breathing in, feeling the cold of the air fill both body and soul and the energy it gives him.

Countless muscle memory that’s been forgotten finds itself moving again, nerve-endings connecting back together when he previously thought he’d never feel such control after falling so deep into heartbreak and denial.

There’s a tingle in Magnus’ wings, the tips of his feathers sending feedback to him, telling him that he should tilt his wings one way and then another as Alec’s wings carry him. It’s strange to feel _something_ after nothing but pain, the hope he previously doubted existed in such a harsh world knocking on his door and welcoming itself home.

But there’s no movement of his wings, just little sparks.

For now, that’s enough.

Everything bleeds out, pushing his head into the juncture between Alec’s neck and shoulders, almost smiling against his skin, one Alec can feel as he allows the gentle current to guide them.

Magnus wants to say it, to say _thank you_ and hope Alec believes him, but the silence is something both of them gladly accept. Alec must know that Magnus hasn’t felt the air like this in such a long time, and perhaps there’s even a fear of heights after being grounded for so long.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m scared right now?”

Alec takes a deep breath before replying, the extra energy needed to carry them both taking its toll already.

“Yeah,” and he tilts his head down slightly, just enough that he can see the tips of Magnus’ wings twitching in the wind as they fly through the air, “I believe you.”

His smile grows, and Alec wishes he could see it. He doesn’t know what Magnus’ smile looks like. There hasn’t been a reason for him to smile, and Alec blames himself for that reason.

Holding him tighter, as if being closer will help his guilt, providing that warmth and safety Magnus denies needing but accepts all the same. There’s no reason for Alec to think he _is_ the problem, but Magnus won’t give him false hope, to see that _maybe_ dangled between them like fate is leading them both into a collision.

Magnus listens to the wind whistle past them, the steady beat of Alec’s wings as he sees them reach up and then push back down again over the surface of Alec’s shoulder. The setting sun paints the skies golden even though a storm rages below them, but the clouds block the horrors he would’ve been caught in.

Alec saved him, saved him from a demise he never wanted but felt he deserved.

 _“I’m so tired,”_ weight lifts from Magnus’ shoulders, once again in the skies and witnessing the colour he thought the gods had cursed him to never see again.

“Rest,” Alec says, as if he isn’t the one exerting most of his energy, “We’re safe. I won’t let go.”

 _“But I want to see-- I want to see the clouds,_ ” he’s speaking as if his heart is, distant, fading to a softness that Alec hasn’t heard before, _“I don’t want to dream this.”_

Alec halts for a moment, commands his wings to keep them steady, and Magnus feels the wind move around them instead of them moving through it. He’s unsure why Alec has paused, but when he moves his head back, Alec is already looking at him.

He wishes he could cup Magnus’ face, to tell him that just because something good is happening to him doesn’t mean that it’s a dream. Magnus deserves the freedom he feels right now, as small as that it is and how much he relies on Alec for it.

“You’re not dreaming anything,” he whispers, watching Magnus’ eyes fall to the sunset over Alec’s shoulder, Alec smiling at the gold reflected in his eyes, “It’s always been there, waiting for you.”

Magnus knows what he means.

The sun, the heights above the clouds-- they never disappeared. They’ve been waiting for him to come back, no matter if it’s with his own wings or someone else.

As Alec moves again, Magnus settles his head on Alec’s shoulder, watching the sunset as he gradually falls asleep.

Slumber claims him as Alec kisses the side of his head, breathing him in, thanking Magnus in his thoughts for not taking that final step, to turn the other way and meet his own end. Granted, he spoke of his wish for Alec to leave, but even Alec could hear the fear in his voice, the uncertainty and how his hands reached for him.

Alec has no idea how long his wings will carry them both, the occasional twinge already plaguing his energy reserves, but he hopes they’ll carry them as far as they need.

They head north to warmer lands, ones that Alec has seen on his quest but never explored. Magnus hasn’t seen them before, and Alec doesn’t know that, but he can string that conclusion together easier than he’d like to.

Greener grass, warmer oceans, clear skies; it’s what they both need.

 

* * *

 

Silence, serenity. Magnus dreams of shapes, feathers that are bronze beneath his fingertips. There’s a voice, distant but close at the same time, gentle as it speaks but firm as it holds him, carries him though the storm of his once void imagination.

But it’s not a happy ending. He’s jolted awake before he manages to reach for the blurred figure in the distance, ears ringing and eyes blurry as his conscious comes back to him.

Opening his eyes, Magnus feels the cold of the wind a few seconds after his body catches up with his mind, shivering in Alec's hold as he clutches closer.

When his other senses kick on, Magnus finds himself looking at rock formations, cliffs that just pierce through the cloud layer. Last time he was awake, they were above that layer, and Alec's wings moved to a strong rhythm that carried them with grace Magnus didn't expect.

But his stomach drops, not from the fear of being in the storm's path, but because Alec starts losing height.

 _“Shit,”_ Alec grunts through clenched teeth, his wings moving but not having the strength to keep going, pushing against the wind but falling through it like a hot knife to butter.

He can't get any lift, and the harder he tries, the quicker they're falling.

_Let go._

That's what Magnus wants to say, but he's trying to spread his wings, to help them even though there's no way he would even if they're healed-- but the thought is there.

His shoulders hurt because of it, wanting to command bruised limbs that do nothing but refuse him, shouting back that _yes, you're hurting because of this, because of yourself._

Magnus holds on, somehow wants the love he's denied Alec to sink into his soul and give him the strength to keep flying. It's foolish, he knows, but he'll try his best to let Alec know.

So he whispers, almost desperate, _“I believe in you.”_

For a split second, it works, and the ache Magnus feels in his chest subsides-- but it soon plummets when Alec loses height again, almost more rapidly than before as he's shifting himself around.

Alec held those words for as long as he could until the bully that hides in his chest, that being his heart, tells him otherwise.

Alec is trying his best to slow their descent, turning so if they do hit the ground, Alec is the first to meet that fate.

And as he holds Magnus in his arms, breathes him in as he watches his decaying wings stand proud from falling through the air, Alec knows that one day he'll see them spread like that for real.

It gives him the strength to let the wind carry him, to seal his fate and hope it's the one he's been wishing for.

Time slows as they fall, two broken birds in different ways descending together as if the world hates them both, yet they find the love they need in each other.

That isn't all true, though, and as Alec can't see the ground, not knowing when he'll hit, there's doubt inside his lungs that they'll ever feel that love.

But how Magnus holds him, holding on for _dear life,_ there's hope. As small as it is, and a blossom of hope is sometimes enough.

Alec can't prepare himself for the pain that's about to come, though. No one can.

His right wing takes the brunt of the impact, weight crushing down on the bone. There's no time to even _blink_ before the bone of his wing arm _snaps._

And Alec parts his lips, tears almost jumping from his eyes as the pain rockets down his spine, splits his core and ruptures his soul. A break of a trophy so holy, bonding his connection to the skies above shattered in a single second.

His cry of pure, genuine agony breaks Magnus’ heart, or at least what's left of it.

Magnus tumbles to the side, Alec unable to hold him as his arms immediately reach for his broken wing. From the force of the crash, Magnus comes to a halt a few steps away, unable to distinguish his own pain from the one he hears of Alec’s.

The pain that twists his face, sharp and almost unbearable to watch, Magnus can imagine what he’s going through.

Whereas Magnus suffered slowly, pain gradual but forever steady, Alec receives a lifetime of pain in a single second, tears falling down his cheek as he can’t feel anything _but_ pain. It swallows him in a blur that blinds his thoughts of Magnus, of where they are and even his own name until there’s nothing but the throbbing, hefty weight of his now useless wing.

“Fuck,” he speaks between clenched teeth, rolling to his side so there’s no pressure, but even that simple move causes him to cry out, the joint tender, _“Fuck.”_

Hands to the floor, Alec feels his stomach lurch, pushing up and making him _gag,_ almost stumbling but not quite. Magnus hears the noise, and he thanks whatever angels watching over them that Alec doesn’t have to feel the pain of lurching whatever he last ate back up again. He can see him struggle, and some deep conscious voice inside of Magnus tells him to get up, to go over and help Alec.

So he does. Magnus crawls to his side, wings trailing in the mud and dirt below them, hand feeling warmth instead of cold as soon as it makes contact with Alec’s arm. It’s as if Alec doesn’t even register that he’s there, moving away from the touch to try and push himself up to a stand, but he stumbles again as the weight of his once great wing pulls on his fragile soul.

Magnus bites his tongue, about to say something he shouldn’t, but he decides to put his words to actions instead.

Pushing himself up, Magnus hooks his arm under Alec’s healthy side, and only then does Alec reach for him, holding on and pulling, using him as leverage to stand up. His knees are wobbly, and Alec almost pulls them both back down from how heavy he holds himself. There’s no strength in how he breathes, as if the breakage of his wing severed his last resolve.

Adrenaline pushes Magnus to the edge of his own tether, allowing Alec to adjust to standing again, not aware of the damage just yet, only knowing that whatever it is-- it’s breaking him. More than anything has before.

Alec clenches his teeth against the sharp pain in his right wing, reaching out with his other hand to support his throbbing shoulder.

Magnus looks at him, utterly shocked. There's dust on his face and his clothes bear long cuts. Tears begin to gather in his eyes and he furiously tries to blink them away.

“Magnus,” Alec starts but when he takes a step forward Magnus stumbles two steps back.

“No,” he says. _“No_. This is my fault.”

He wraps his arms around his body as if to shield himself, his eyes focused on Alec’s broken wing.

“I’m the reason you got hurt.”

“What?” Alec frowns and shakes his head. “This isn’t your fault, Magnus.”

“Your wing--“, he breaks off then, a familiar grief shaking him to the core and making his limbs go numb. His face twists into a painful grimace and he has to bite his lip, hard enough to draw blood so he doesn’t do something stupid like take Alec into his arms and never let go. He doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve Alec and his good heart, doesn't deserve his smiles and soft words. Everything Magnus touches ultimately falls apart. If he keeps holding on to Alec he's going to break him and Magnus doesn't think he can live with that thought, doesn't think he can bare the guilt of it.

“You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you hadn’t chosen to protect me.”

Alec shakes his head incredulously. “It was my decision. I couldn’t just leave you there while you were defenceless.”

“Well, you should have,” Magnus interrupts, voice hard, “I’m weak. You just said it yourself--“

“That’s not what I meant and you know it--“

“I’m not _worth_ it, Alec,” Magnus says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "How can I be a Guardian if I can't even protect myself? You had to carry me because I wasn't strong enough. And you ended up getting hurt because of it."

Alec's face falls, his heart coming to a short halt in his chest. It starts beating again, painfully so, and his hands begin to shake. Taking a deep breath, he takes another step closer, relief seeping into his body when Magnus doesn’t flinch back this time.

 _Hope_ . It's as beautiful as it is destructive and Alec dreads what it's going to do to him when it's crushed. Oh how he _hopes_ it doesn't.

“You are,” he murmurs, a sad smile on his lips as he reaches out a hand, grazing his fingers over Magnus’ knuckles. “You are worth it to _me._ ” Alec takes one hand out of Magnus’ hold, causing the other one to drop back to his side.

They don't say anything for a moment, the only sound the burble of rain on the hard concrete and their harsh breathing. Alec squeezes Magnus’ hand in both of his own, the pain in his wing becoming secondary as his thumbs strokes along the back of Magnus' hand, asking him to look up, to _fight_. For what, Alec doesn't know.

But Magnus only turns away, Alec losing the hold on his hand, shrinking into himself even more.

“You should leave while you still can.”

And there goes Alec's hope, as small as it was, crumbling to the ground like dead weight. Alec swears he can hear it breaking, feels the shards grace his legs as the reminder of it leaves him painfully cold.

Out of all the times Magnus watched his heart leave him, he never thought he'd be the one to _make_ them leave. He squares his shoulders, ignoring the pain that travels down his spine and turns back around to face Alec.

“Everything around me eventually decays, Alec, don’t you see that?”

 _“You_ see that, I don’t,” Alec points to his own chest, “I see you differently, and just because my wing broke doesn’t mean that you being around me caused that. It’s _me_ who wasn’t strong enough, that I couldn’t save you. I was an idiot for flying for too long, that’s all.”

Magnus bites his tongue, but the anger bubbling in his chest forces his words back to the surface, “I don’t need saving,” and he swallows, taking a breath, “And I don’t need _you_ to tell me what I am, who I am.”

Alec’s face drops, almost as if someone just physically slapped him, _“What?_ How can you say that?”

“Just because I’m grounded, just because I’m broken doesn’t mean I need some _guardian angel_ to come and protect me--”

“I’m not trying to protect you, Magnus, I’m trying to make you see--”

“Make me see _what?_ How weak I am? How my wings will never be like yours ever again? You might see some-- _fairytale future_ in your dreams, but I see _nothing,_ Alec, _nothing,”_ turning away, Magnus can feel the impact of his words on himself, how heavy his chest begins to feel, “What did you think would happen, Alec? That if you saved me, scooped me up like some damsel in distress, my wings would heal?”

He doesn’t know what to say, standing there as the rain pours, Alec letting his only healthy wing droop like the other one.

Is this how Magnus feels when his heart breaks, the denial? The want to try and fix things when they’re already gone?

“There’s nothing for you here, not with me,” Magnus says, voice sour, but Alec can hear the moment his heart tips, the moment that tear falls down his cheek, “There’s no saving me, Alec. I was always meant to turn into one of those monsters. Go find your fairytale somewhere else, because it’s not here,” and then he’s looking to Alec, the warm hazel gone from his eyes, “It never was and never will be.”

Alec takes a step forward when Magnus turns back again, but it’s not to say more words, it’s so Alec _looks_ at him, sees the rain soaking his wings and clothes, wants to make him see how broken a man can truly be.

Lifting his hand to his chest, clutching his shirt over his heart, Alec realises something.

This is it, isn’t it? The cold feeling that the rain can’t dare to match, the ringing in his ears, how his lungs fill with nothing but words he can’t speak because Alec doesn’t know how; this is _heartbreak._

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” says Magnus, looking past him even though it seems like he’s looking _at_ him.

Alec looks down to his chest, how he can’t seem to stop his hand from squeezing his heart, almost as if he’s trying to pull the feeling away, the shadows that wrap around his heart.

“I told you, Alec,” he’s almost whispering now, thunder rumbling in the background, “Everything breaks around me, even when you think you’re immune.”

For a moment, Magnus holds his breath, because Alec wouldn’t be feeling so broken if he felt nothing for Magnus. Does this mean-- that he _does?_

But the way he looks up, catches Magnus’ eyes with his own, gritting his teeth and forcing the edge of a sob through his lips.

“I was never immune, Magnus, I was already broken.” His hand falls to his side, no longer gripping his heart, trying to hold it together, “My heart broke as soon as I saw you. This is just-- this is _love,_ I can’t _feel_ that love anymore. It’s _gone.”_

A pause, a single beat of a second that goes by slower than they’d like.

“You’re right. This isn’t love, this is hoping for something like it, wanting to fix the pain we feel, but we _can’t_ ,” Alec’s voice is breaking, even though he’s trying hard to keep his tone level, it’s crumbling beneath his control, “And I hope you do find love, Magnus. I hope you find someone who will love you, heart and soul, because I know I can’t. You’ve made that clear.”

“Stop saying all these things” Anger begins to boil in Magnus’ gut, tears streaming down his cheeks mercilessly, blurring his vision. “Just leave. Why are you still here?”

Alec’s voice rises above the storm, making Magnus jolt, “Because everything I did, I did for a reason. I did it for you, I did it in hope one day you’d feel something other than pain,” taking a step back, Alec starts shaking his head, “You never wanted this, never wanted _us.”_

“There was never going to be an _us,_ Alec. There’s never _anything_ with me, and I know that now.” Magnus folds his arms across his chest, hugging himself. _You can't be loved,_  his mind keeps telling him. _Look at you. You're pathetic_.

 _I know_ , Magnus wants to scream at them, to reach into his mind and pull them out but he can't. He's helpless against them.

“No, Magnus. You’re wrong,” Alec’s looking at him now, a smile on his face, but it’s one of a fake happiness only heartbreak can bring, “I loved you, I wanted to stand by your side, for as long as you’d let me.”

The mention of time brings Magnus’ attention to his wings, the rain so cold it numbs the bruises on his back, his lips trembling. He knows a hug from Alec will make the rain seem inferior, the warmth of his embrace one he’s been missing ever since the last time they shared one.

"But I guess--,” Alec bites his lips, blinking, another tear or two falling from shadowed eyes, “I guess my time is up.” He takes a deep breath, heart falling into a dark void.

“No,” Magnus says, shaking his head like a child, his voice carrying back to Alec. “You never loved me.”

“God, Magnus.” Alec wants to reach out, to grab Magnus and shake him to his senses. He takes a step closer and sees the pain in Magnus’ eyes, the tremor in his limbs. He's so close to him now that all he’d have to do is raise his hand to make contact with him.

“How can someone as smart as you be so blind? Of course I loved you. I still do.”

“No! _No_ ,” Magnus surges forwards, pushing against Alec's chest, and Alec winces. Tears stream down Magnus' cheeks, his eyes mirroring the battle that is raging inside his heart. Torn between anger and desperation, he clutches Alec's shirt in his fists.

“Take it back,” he murmurs, searching Alec's eyes like a drowning man looking for something to hold onto. “Say you never loved me. Say this never meant anything to you.”

“Magnus--”

“ _Say it_ , Alec. Say you--”

He's interrupted by Alec's lips on his own, his words turning into agonizing sobs and he chokes on it, clinging to Alec as if he's the only thing keeping him from falling back underwater. Magnus can't breathe, can't feel anything apart from Alec's mouth on his and the strong chest beneath his fingers, muscles working to pull him closer and closer still until there's no more distance between them. He sags against Alec's chest, knees going weak in his hold as he kisses him back, feverishly so.

Alec doesn't know why he kisses Magnus, making the situation even more difficult because letting go of Magnus now seems impossible. How can Alec leave the man that holds his heart behind without breaking it in the same breath?

He feels Magnus’ hands moving to his lower back, clutching the fabric with trembling fingers and pressing close, silently begging him not to let go. Alec can only gasp, opening his lips for Magnus in invitation, allowing his touch to numb the pain. His own hands move to Magnus’ face, tilting his head back a little, holding him still. He parts his lips, stealing the air right out of Magnus’ lungs as if he needs it to breathe, as if he can't live without it, and maybe he can't. He's been alone half his life but now that he's had Magnus, felt his body beneath his fingers, experienced the warmth his eyes and sacred touches give, he can't imagine himself without it. Alec can't imagine not having _this,_  not feeling his legs shake with the force of Magnus’ kisses, not feeling his body fit perfectly against his own. He's lived years without it but now that he’s tasted it on Magnus’ lips, the promises of a life filled with love; the thought of leaving it behind is _unbearable._ Alec sees his world falling apart in front of his eyes but he can't bring himself to push Magnus away, not yet. He allows himself a few more seconds, holding Magnus in his arms for just a little bit longer, swallowing each sound Magnus makes to claim them as his own, trying to keep the tingling sensation in his body awake, memorising the feeling of Magnus’ body.

Minutes pass and when Alec pulls away Magnus chases after him, a high-pitched whine escaping his throat at the loss of contact.

“Alexander,” he breathes, voice heavy with emotions, and Alec can't deny him, can't deny _himself_. So he kisses him; again and again and _again_ , until his lungs burn and his heart cracks, begging him to have mercy, to end this beautiful torture. He doubts he can live without Magnus but he's been left with no choice.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs against Magnus’ bruised lips, resting his forehead to Magnus’. He keeps his eyes closed, savouring this moment, imagining that they're okay and that Magnus loves him back.

 _You're a fool_ , a voice in his head mocks, _he's incapable of love._

Alec doesn't want to believe it, wants to open up Magnus’ heart and love him till he's whole again. But it's impossible. A cold shiver rattles his bones and he begins to slowly take his hands away from Magnus’ face, taking a small step back.

“I can't keep doing this, Magnus. I can't keep waiting on you to figure out how you feel. I'm sorry I couldn't make you believe in me, in _us_ , and I'm sorry it wasn't enough.”

Something breaks, something different. It’s not his heart this time, but not knowing _what_ is breaking inside makes Magnus feels worse, so much worse. It shatters apart right where he stands and Magnus wants to open his hands to catch it but it slips through his fingers like molten gold, piercing hot and burning, and Magnus falls apart.

Because Alec is already turning away, leaving him-- and this time, he’s not going to turn back. He’s not going to come back.

Magnus reaches out, or his heart does, whatever’s left of it anyway, begging for his lungs to say the name he doesn’t want to forget. But alas, a whine breaks out before his name, and Magnus is left grasping air as he falls to his knees.

Alec loved him, he really did, and now he’s lost him.

He doesn’t even look back, clutching his damaged shoulder, aware he won’t be able to fly. In honesty, that makes it worse, because Alec can’t disappear miles and miles away from where he is now, to start a new life quicker than his heart will mend-- because he’ll have to walk.

Alec is grounded, just like Magnus. Only one wing is broken, but somehow he feels like both of them are, that whatever life force inside him has shut down, refusing to kickstart itself because of how much _agony_ he feels.

As much as he wants to turn around, to be stubborn and say to Magnus that he won’t leave, that he won’t make him fend for himself; the words Magnus said are final. Magnus’ little prophecy came true, that Alec’s heart will break and Magnus will be the cause of it.

Oh, he wishes he was wrong. He wishes they were _both_ wrong.

Maybe if they didn’t have the doubt, the denial of a love so obviously there hidden by fear, maybe things would be different.

Alec could be holding him right now, holding his face so fragile, completely aware of how much strength Magnus has, but _choosing_ to love him like a precious art time will no doubt destroy. But, he’s too late, because someone got to Magnus first, destroyed what made him believe, what made him _love_ the world and himself.

The word _love_ feels like poison now, a deadly concoction that Alec decided to drink with no caution, going in blind and hoping to come out of it with a smile on his face.

He can’t even smile at the small moments they’ve had, or what little number they’ve made. Half of it Alec doubts was even real, something his imagination conjured up to make it seem a little better, a little easier to deal with.

Feeling his lungs burn out, Alec keeps walking, daring himself to turn back, to see if Magnus is still standing there and wanting him to do the very thing he wants to do so desperately--

He doesn’t. Alec soldiers on, but he doesn’t feel like one. He’s broken his promise to Magnus, and it feels like _hell_ to come to that conclusion.

Magnus feels his world blur the more Alec fades into the distance, as if Alec was the source of everything he knew and loved. Colours seemed more vibrant with him, slowly coming back, his wings less heavy even though they still remain pointless in his life.

Now, that beacon is gone, the lighthouse to guide him through the storm.

And as the waves of heartbreak drag Magnus away, further into the depths of the ocean inside his mind, heart drowning, he can’t see the lighthouse anymore.

It’s dark, cold and empty.

Alec’s name is nothing but a blister on his tongue, not being able to say it as water fills his lungs, and he’s drowning, crying as the rain continues to fall. Not even the thunder can match the ringing in his ears, the voice of a man he was learning to love fading out to nothing, lost at sea.

All this time, his lovers have been the one to leave him, and Magnus Bane never thought he’d be the one to push his heart away.

 

* * *

 

His heart breaking into a million little pieces, Alec moves further and further away from Magnus, away from any kind of future they could’ve had together. Tears stream down his cheeks in waves, every step hurts his sore muscles, his broken wing twitching painfully with every movement and he has to clench his jaw against it. But the physical pain is nothing compared to the agony that spreads in his chest as he realises he’s lost Magnus for good.

 _But what if this isn’t the end?_ A hopeful voice in his mind offers. _What if this is the start of something else?_

Maybe he should turn around, he thinks wildly, maybe he should swallow down his pride and ask Magnus for forgiveness. Maybe they can make amends, maybe Magnus feels the same and is thinking of running after him right this moment. Maybe seeing Alec turn around is all Magnus needs to change his mind. Maybe they can move past this.

 _Maybe_.

His heart is screaming at him to let go, to spare himself from any more heartache. _Enough,_  it seems to say, _make it stop_. But his love for Magnus sits deeper, the tendrils of it have long since found their way into the depth of his soul.

He needs to see him; one more time. It can’t get any worse than that, can it? Turning around for one last look can’t hurt any more than walking away did, right?

He glances over his shoulder then, hope simmering somewhere deep in his gut, making his skin tingle. That hope dies out as soon as he sees Magnus, the realisation of just how wrong he’s been, how much worse this is crashing down on him in an instant. His knees give out beneath him, hitting the wet concrete hard, but Alec doesn’t even feel it. His heart contracts painfully and Alec has to clutch at his chest to make sure it’s still beating.

Magnus isn’t looking at him the way Alec hoped he would be. Instead, he finds Magnus crumbled on the ground, his arms wrapped around his body and knees as if to protect himself, as if he hasn’t been shattered to pieces already. The dark grey of his wings is prominent even through the heavy rain, and they look just as broken as the man they belong to.

Alec chokes on a sob, seeing Magnus like that makes this whole situation even less bearable. Magnus is just as affected as he is, suffering just as severely despite acting like he didn’t care. This is love in its most twisted face.

He wants to run back, tp pull Magnus back into his arms and never let go, wants to hold on to the illusion he’s feared so much, even if it's just for a few more seconds.

But he has to look after himself too, just for once in his life. He was born a Guardian, sent to protect and guide mankind, a selfless creature that puts everyone and everything above themselves. He was raised that way, living by code and not once stopping to tend to his own wounds, to reflect on his own feelings.

After weeks of taking care of Magnus, he has to take care of his own body now, to try and mend the broken pieces of his heart back together.

But he can’t leave him behind, can he? It’ll go against everything that he is, everything he was raised to and still thrives to be.

He has too, though, and he hates it, hates being selfish, hates leaving Magnus when he’s like that but he can’t do this anymore. If he falls again he doesn’t think he can get back up.

The pain in his chest is bright and angry, stealing the breath from his lungs, weighing down on his body, but he grits his teeth and moves on shaky legs. He turns around and starts walking again, his feet dragging over the ground and he has to remind himself not to look back; _not again._

He’s distracted, can’t feel anything beyond the heartbreak, and so he doesn’t notice how his right wing stops moving, feathers inking a deep black as the muscles in his joints go slack with exhaustion.

There’s something else that pulses just beneath the surface, something evil and poisonous that wraps itself around Alec’s heart, stealing all of his light. He keeps walking, every step away from Magnus is another step into darkness, deviating from who he is as a person, from who he was always meant to be.

A perfect soldier. A pure soul. A good man.

 

_Non nobis solum nati sumus._

  


One more step and he's going to lose it all.

 

* * *

 

_‘when the violins play their final song, i’ll continue with my own, as lonely and broken as it may sound compared to the world around me’_

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us here! [@captxnbane](https://twitter.com/captxnbane), [@oceantlde!](https://twitter.com/oceantlde)  
> Thank you for reading! <3


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